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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918304">Stray A Little Closer To Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot'>robinlikeitshot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BAMF Tim Drake, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Murder, Slow Burn, Stray AU, Tim Drake is Catlad | Stray, Tim Drake kills the Joker, Tim Drake-centric, also the amount of unnecessary swearing in the notes wow, crime lord! jason, please no one call me out on the title changes im indecisive, the author apologizes for their severe love of commas, the major character death is jason, they deserve a happy ending goddamit, tired mom!selina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:47:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hood shifts his stance, barely but enough that the gun holstered on his thigh is shadowed by the edge of his jacket. "Oh no," and even through the voice modulator, Tim can make out the deepness of his tone. "I wanted to make you an offer, Stray."</p><p>"An offer?"</p><p>"Yes," Hood replies, arms spreading out at his sides and if Tim could see his face he would be sure the man was grinning. "As my second-in-command."<br/>---</p><p>Or how a young Timothy Drake becomes Stray, falls in love, kills the Joker, and gets recruited by a crimelord that always manages to hit a little too close to home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, Tim Drake/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>someone kills the joker for jason</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. selina pulls a bruce and adopts a child who does their level best to off her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this is going to be probably the longest fic ive ever written. ive already got the next eight chapters lined up, so updates should be pretty consistent. ive always really wanted to do a stray au, and im really excited to start sharing this with you guys! a huge, huge thank you to my amazing beta al, or dumble-daddy on tumblr, who helped wrangle this monster into something presentable. hope you like it<br/>Enjoy:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim ducked as another thug came flying over the dumpster. Heart thudding in his throat, he brought the camera up to his eye and carefully snapped a shot of Robin tying up the remaining two with zip ties while cheerfully reading them their rights.</p><p>He wished he'd gotten here a bit earlier, but the minute that it took him to scramble down from the rooftop had cost him the pictures he'd wanted of the fight. </p><p>Quickly snapping another shot, he caught one of Batman's rare smiles as he turned to his sidekick. He had to fight back a squeal as he looked at it. The light pouring from the streetlight bathed the Boy Wonder in a cheery warm glow, while its shadow cast the Caped Crusader in darkness, the contours of his suit barely visible through the lens. The light had caught his smile though, and it seemed to brighten up the whole cowl. </p><p>Tim glanced up, only to see them both gone. He wasn't too worried about it, as the police frequency he'd connected his walkie-talkie to was emitting a low beep, informing Tim that there'd been a break-in down in the Diamond District.  </p><p>The area was a bit far from Newtown, but Tim had been following his heroes for two years now. He'd memorized most of their routes and he knew exactly which one they would take. Luckily for him, he knew a faster way. </p><p>Creeping out behind the dumpster, he toes over the barely conscious man in front of him before starting up a light jog to the alley he'd hidden his bike.</p><p>He doesn't get very far before he catches the glint of metal from the corner of his eyes. Quickly tucking himself into the shadow of the wall, he watches in awe as Catwoman leaps into the alley. </p><p>She's panting, as if out of breath, and Tim's brain helpfully connects the dots between the break-in and the heavy diamond necklace tangled between her claws. Holding his breath, he slowly raises the viewfinder to his eye and presses down on the shutter. </p><p>The flash goes off.</p><p>Immediately, Catwoman's head darts up from where she was leaning back against the dirty alley wall and snaps to where he's still stupidly standing, the camera’s heavy weight in his hands.</p><p>Weighing his options in the few spare seconds he doesn't have, he spins on his heel and breaks for it. Of course, he can't exactly outrace her, but if he can just make it to the end of the alley...</p><p>One swipe of Catwoman's claws at his back causes him to make a sound he's sure he'll regret later, but he makes it to the mouth of the alley in one piece. Eyes scanning the crumbling brickwork, he slips into the barely discernible crack in the wall.</p><p> He ends up having to turn sideways and shimmy a little bit to fit, which takes him long enough that she catches up, but he's already through and it's too small for her to squeeze in too, no matter how tight her bodysuit is.</p><p> He quickly begins running as the crack opens up into a muddy alley, trying to get to his bike before Catwoman can figure out where he is. He's almost there too, when the woman, out of breath, lands in front of him. </p><p>She looks annoyed, he notes, as she straightens out of her crouch and stalks up to him. He backs up slowly, glancing around for anything he can use to defend himself. Nothing but wet trash and broken sidewalk. Still... a plan quickly forms in his mind.</p><p> Once he’s within swiping range, she's hardly even able to growl, "Give up the camera, kid," when Tim leaps onto the fire escape of the building they're having this little showdown next to, which opens to swing and smack her in the face.</p><p> She dodges just in time, surprised and cursing as she pulls out her whip and jumps up after him. She's fast and has the experience, but he's studied the layout of these buildings till he knows them like the back of his hand. </p><p>Quickly sliding up one of the windows that's always been left open, he scrambles inside and locks it. Catwoman may be able to pick any lock in the city, but she couldn't pick something she couldn't reach. </p><p>Heart in his throat, Tim races out of the bare room and runs down the hall of the abandoned apartment building, going faster at the sound of the window’s glass shattering behind him. </p><p>Making it to the collapsed wall at the end of the corridor, he hardly has a moment to hesitate before he’s jumping, eyes squeezed shut till he hits the second floor almost twelve feet down.</p><p>Turning on his heel, he keeps running, camera thumping against his chest as he carefully listens to the sound of Catwoman's boots thumping on the floor above him. </p><p>Finally, they taper off, and Tim stops for a second to take a breath when the ceiling in front of him erupts in a cloud of dry plaster and dust. Coughing, he stumbles, falling back as the pissed off woman lands in front of him.</p><p>She grabs the scruff of his sweater and picks him up like one of her kittens. Scowling, she hisses, "How old are you, kid?" </p><p>"I'm," he kicks his legs uselessly in the air, toes barely brushing the ground, "I’m not a kid!"</p><p>"Mhm. Seven? Eight?"</p><p>He blushes, still struggling uselessly. "I'm ten!"</p><p>She raises her brow. "You don't look it."</p><p>He doesn't justify that with a response. It's only when she reaches for the camera again that he protests. </p><p>"No, don't!" She frowns at him, shaking her head as she pulls the expensive device out of its case, dropping him to flip the thing over.</p><p>"Sorry, kid. It's a pretty thing, though. Could get quite a price for it," she says with a contemplative hum. </p><p>His eyes widen in a panic, opening his mouth to plead, but she cuts him off. "Don't worry though. I'll make a deal with you, hm?"</p><p>He tips his head to the side, before nodding at her to continue. He's not really in a position to be making deals, but it's better than nothing.  </p><p>"You can have your little camera back, and in exchange, you won't be snitching to any little birdies about what you saw tonight, mkay ?"</p><p>He wasn't really planning to anyway, but he nods his assent. Before he can ask for his camera back though, Catwoman shakes her finger at him with a grin. </p><p>"I'm keeping the SD, though."</p><p>"What? No!" That chip has served him for the better part of the month, and he's got pictures of Bruce Wayne on there intermixed with the night shots of Batman. From there, it wouldn't take a detective to figure out the identity of the Caped Crusader. </p><p>"Sorry, kitten. But I can't have any evidence of my heist tonight going around." Her clawed fingers easily begin picking open the camera.</p><p>He tries to grab it but she dodges it easily. Looking down at him, almost amused this time, she asks curiously, "What's on this that you need it so much, anyway?"</p><p>Before he can stop her, Catwoman's flicking through the pictures, and he sees her eyes widen as she sees the first one. The tips of her claws trace Batman's smile for a moment, before she's quickly scrolling through the rest of them.</p><p>She grows more and more still as she recognizes some of the more precarious places Tim'd have to be to get the shots, but it's only once she reaches a photo of Bruce smiling stupidly at a striking woman with short black hair that she whips around at him. </p><p>He flinches slightly as she holds up the photo with herself and Batman. "You know his identity." </p><p>It's not a question, but Tim answers it anyway. "Yes."</p><p>"You know mine."</p><p>"It wasn't too hard to figure out once I knew his," came his meek response.</p><p>"Figure out- who else knows?"  </p><p>"No one, I swear," he almost begs, holding his hands up as if to prove his innocence. "No one's seen the photos, either." Well, more like he's never had anyone to show them too, but same difference.</p><p>She looks at him for a long, hard moment, and he tries not to squirm under her scrutinizing stare. </p><p>"I believe you," she says finally, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "But."</p><p>He stills again. "It's dangerous for you to have this kind of information, kid. I don't think you want to do any harm, but there's still a lot of people out there that would hurt you for this."</p><p>Tim raises his brow, not expecting to get the safety speech from a supervillain of all people. "You're absolutely correct, Ms. Kyle. In fact, I'll go home right now and I swear not to come back." He tacks on his gala smile for emphasis.</p><p>Catwoman levels an unimpressed gaze on him. "You're terrible at lying, kid."</p><p>"Am not!"</p><p>"Are too,” she argues back. “The second I'm out of sight you're going to go back to," she looks down at the camera, "dangling half off of Sprang Bridge to get a good angle, Jesus, kid."</p><p>A slightly reproached look on his face, he shrugs. </p><p>"And am I also right in assuming that you've had no formal training?"</p><p>He fights the light pink that wants to brush his cheeks as he answers, "I've been thinking about taking a few judo classes for the summer, but..."</p><p>"So that's a no. Okay." She huffs, almost sighing as she puts her hands on her hips. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she mutters to herself before giving him a stern look.</p><p>"Since it seems like you won't stop if I ask nicely, and I'd really like to keep you from going splat on the sidewalk outside of City Hall with the stunts you pull, you're going to have to learn some proper self-defense." </p><p>"From who?" he asks. She smiles tiredly at his wide eyes.</p><p>"Well, I'd like to keep the information that you have off the streets and the market, so I guess you're stuck with me, kid. It's either that or you give up the camera and not let me catch you sneaking around these parts again."</p><p>He makes a contemplative expression, before voicing his only concern. "I... I won't have to steal anything, will I?"</p><p>She chuffs, before shaking her head. "No. I'll just be showing you how to protect yourself. Anything after that is solely up to you."</p><p>Tim nods slowly, turning it over in his head. It's not a bad deal to make, and it means that he'll still be able to take pictures of Batman and Robin. It also means that he won't have to deal with the inevitable questions about why the eleven-year-old Drake heir wants to take martial arts lessons.</p><p>"Ok." He feels a tentative smile creep onto his face as he takes the proffered gloved hand in front of him, pulling himself up. "I think I’d like that."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. tim decides his career as a 12 year old and selina wonders what bruce would do before promptly sticking him in spandex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You've trained me for a year now, I think I can handle it," he argues.</p><p>Selina sighs, dragging her hand over her face before rising. "If I say no you're just going to follow me anyway, aren't you," she asks unamusedly.</p><p>"Yeah, probably."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello!!!!<br/>this chapter has just a little bit more selina/tim in it, because i am the biggest fan of tiredmom!selina, and tims first time going out as stray and meeting batman<br/>hope yall like it, enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim quickly ducks the corner, pressing flat to the brick wall of the rooftop. His breath comes in short pants that he attempts to muffle as she prowls closer.</p><p>Once she passes by his corner, the distinct click of her boots fading, he lets it out, relaxing. Only to jump a foot in the air when she lands in front of him, her claws at his throat.</p><p>"Got you." Catwoman's poised stance doesn't match the way Selina's eyes twinkle amusedly at him from under her cowl as she grins at him.</p><p>Tim groans, barely resisting the urge to fist his hands. He'd gotten so close to beating his record! Just five more seconds and he'd have hit thirty minutes, but he'd had to take a risk with the detour into Robbinsville and it ultimately hadn't paid off.</p><p>Moving back, Selina's smile softens a bit. "You did good today, kitten," she says, mussing his hair as his bangs fall out from underneath his hood and he hastily shoves them back. His parents hadn't been in Gotham for the nine months he'd been training with Selina, and so he didn't have anyone telling him to cut it. She had offered, but upon his shy admission at liking it long, she'd just smiled and offered to teach him how to braid.</p><p>He squints at her, disappointment a heavy weight in his stomach. "I failed."</p><p>"No, you didn't," she replies, pulling out her whip. "You're doing heaps better than when we first started out, aren't you?"</p><p>"I did worse than last time," he protests even as he allows her to tug him to her side. Snapping his eyes shut, the wind whistles through his ears as Catwoman swings them up, a reluctant smile creeping on his face even as his stomach drops.</p><p>Once they're both clear on the rooftop, she turns to him, crouching so they’re eye to eye. "And you'll do better next time. Really, kitten, you did great today."</p><p>When he finally nods, she smiles, standing up and pulls out her 'work' phone. "Unfortunately, I think we'll have to call it a night. Will you be alright getting home by yourself tonight, kitten?"</p><p>He frowns. More often than not these days, Tim had been finding more and more excuses to stay over at Selina's warm apartment, and the woman had only been happy to comply once she figured out just how empty his own home was. She only really sent him back to Drake Manor when...</p><p>"You're going out tonight," he states.</p><p>“Got it in one, Timmy,” she replied, pulling up the plans for the night’s heist. A simple break-in at the museum, where the ‘Dynamique,” a stolen eighteenth-century painting would be making its debut.</p><p>Before he loses his nerve, Tim screws up his courage and blurts out, "Can I please come with you?"</p><p>Selina stops, looking down at him with a serious look. He shifts his weight to his other foot nervously as she leans down, leveling him with a serious look.</p><p>"Are you absolutely sure, Tim? You know you don't have to, I won't stop training you if you refuse," she says gently. And while stealing things from people who had worked hard and deserved their money still left a sour taste in his mouth-</p><p>"I know. But, the art doesn't belong to the museum, so technically we're just giving it back to the people it rightfully belongs to," with a few thousand dollars give or take, "right?"</p><p>"I guess," she says carefully. "But it could be dangerous, kitten. And you're still young. Don't you want to wait till you're eighteen?"</p><p>He looks at her, baffled. "What difference would it make if I was eighteen? And anyway, you've trained me for a year now, I think I can handle it."</p><p>Selina sighs, dragging her hand over her face before rising. "If I say no you're going to follow me anyway, aren't you," she asks unamusedly.</p><p>"Yeah, probably."</p><p>She sighs again. "Fine. You can come."</p><p>His smile drops as she holds up a finger. "But. If the Bats show up, I don't want you to try and take them. You're no way near there yet, so if they come after you, you run, understood?"</p><p>He nods. "Understood." She smiles, tucking him into her side.</p><p>"Well then, partner. Let's get going, shall we?"</p><p>____________</p><p>Tim touches the mask Selina had given him again. The white-outs switch out to the infrared setting Tim had installed last month when Selina had let him check out her tech. She’d been surprised and a touch proud when she’d seen Tim’s technological prowess, something that still makes him feel warm inside. Returning his attention to the situation at hand, Tim watches through the metal grating of the ceiling vent as Catwoman lowers herself into the pressure-sensitive room.</p><p>He holds his breath even as she flicks her whip out, catching it on a large marble pillar and using the leverage to slowly pull herself closer to the large painting mounted in the middle of the wall in a gaudy silver and gold frame case. The ‘Dynamique’ is frankly rather ugly, unless Tim looks at it upside down, and then it looks like a dog trying to eat a very large pink egg.</p><p>Selina makes quick work of the frame, cracking it with swift movements of her wrists even as she keeps herself tethered to the ropes holding her in place. Pulling the painting out, she carefully rolls it up, sliding it into the specially designed case she kept clipped to her back.</p><p>Turning around, she shoots him a quick wink even as she flicks the whip and drops down to the floor. Tim fights the urge to gasp as blaring red lights begin strobing through the display hall, out of which’s shadows steps Batman in all his infamy. Catwoman just laughs, a beat that almost matches Tim’s thumping heart.</p><p>He can’t stop the little <em>whoosh</em> of air that leaves his lips as they begin fighting, though, but thankfully Batman doesn’t hear him, too distracted with Selina’s shiny sharp claws. He remains where he is at first, but when the two black-clad figures tumble out of the museum’s high windows, Tim can’t just <em>stay</em> there.</p><p>Hastily crawling out of the vent, Tim emerges onto the rooftop, shrinking into the shadow of a telephone pole as Selina flies past him. She bounces back up again immediately, pouncing at the Bat even as she unclips the painting.</p><p>Eyes wide, Tim watches the case roll towards him, coming to a stop in front of him. Looking up, he sees her distracting the Bat with a kiss, and he’s about to look away when he sees Selina snap her fingers twice. <em>Intervene</em>.</p><p>Quickly, Tim snatches up the painting, before darting out of the shadows at Catwoman’s signal. Batman immediately stiffens when he sees him, turning to push the woman off of him as he discreetly wipes his mouth. “Who’s this?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be jealous, Batman,” Selina purrs, and Tim takes another step back when Batman grabs his mentor’s wrists, pushing her up to the wall.</p><p>“Selina.”</p><p>“You’re not the only one who’s allowed to have an apprentice,” she pouts, even as she digs her claws into Batman’s cape, flipping over him to land in front of Tim, shielding him. Her hand taps against her thigh.</p><p>“You can’t bring children into this life, Selina,” Batman intones, stalking closer even as Tim inches to the edge of the roof.</p><p>“Rich coming from you,” she replies, launching herself at him as he tries to make a pass around her.</p><p>“Who is he?” he grunts, blocking her.</p><p>She snarls, wrapping her legs around his waist and knocking him to the ground. “He’s mine.” Tim tries not to redden at her claim, warmth curling up in his gut, but he’s pretty sure Selina heard his sharp intake of breath through the coms.</p><p>Batman rolls them over, Catwoman striking him across the face even as he pins her, and Tim takes that as his cue to bounce. Pulling out the new whip she’d gifted him with, he snaps it once before jumping, the heavy painting barely weighing him down.</p><p>Hanging beneath the overhang of the roof, Tim debates waiting for Selina before heading off to their rendezvous. At the sound of something that Tim refuses to think of as anything other than adult things, he makes the obvious decision.</p><p>The case is bulky and uncomfortable, so it takes him significantly longer to make it the safehouse than it usually would have, but thankfully no one sees him as he swings over the quiet streets, the cool night air whistling through his ears. He can’t stop the absurd grin from spreading over his face as his boots touch the floor of the apartment.</p><p>Dropping the painting on the table, Tim gets the hot chocolate started as he waits for Selina. It’s only five minutes later, their drinks not even cooled yet when she slides the window open, slipping in while surreptitiously attempting to fix her smudged lipstick.</p><p>“You did a great job out there, Timmy,” she beams at him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She smells like leather and smoke, he thinks as he accepts it, burying his face into her stomach.</p><p>Pulling away they both turn to the table, where the painting is rolled out for them to see. It’s kind of growing on him, he muses as Selina ruffles his hair, picking up their drinks and setting them on the table.</p><p>A few minutes later, Selina looks over at him, her thinking face on.</p><p>“What?’ he asks, nudging her leg.</p><p>She tips her head to the side with a light smile. “Would you like to go out to celebrate tomorrow? It was your first successful heist, after all.”</p><p>He grins. “Can we go see Auntie Pam?” The woman wasn’t always on the best terms with the Cat, but she’d taken a shine to him, and he loved watching her plant magic. One time she’d even gifted him with a tiny red and yellow flower in a pot after he’d given her a picture he’d caught of her and Harley, which he’d carefully planted in Drake Manor’s flower beds.</p><p>She laughed, tossing back her head. It was very pretty, warm and tinkling. “Sure, kitten.”</p><p>His face reddened. “Kitten?” he protested.</p><p>Selina smirked at him. “Well, we do have to have a name to call you by, don’t we?” she asks amusedly.</p><p>“There is no way I’m keeping my codename as <em>kitten</em>!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next up, tim finally meets robin!<br/>if you liked it, may i pls request a kudo, or perchance even a comment? and if there's anything u want to see wt the boys, then feel free to ask:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. tim expresses a healthy amount of disdain for his idol's embroidered handkerchiefs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tim catches a little birdy and finally chooses a name.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tbh this two are so cute together its gonna suck to kill jay off<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim narrows his eyes at the cat, who merely lifts her tail up and turns her head to the busy street thirty feet below.</p><p>He purses his lips. The tabby spooks easily, and the thin ledge she's walking down doesn't give her much of a chance at survival if she startles. He's going to have to be careful.</p><p>Slowly, staying low to the ground, he creeps up on the feline, arms out in front of him. When he's finally close enough to reach, the cat turns to him again, giving him an unimpressed gaze. She then proceeds to <em> step off the ledge<em>. </em></em></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim yelps, pulling out his whip and preparing to jump after her when he hears the swish of a cape behind him. Spinning around, he's stupidly relieved to see the cat purring nonchalantly, before looking up and seeing who's holding her.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>If not for the hours of training Selina had put him through, Tim is fairly sure his mouth would have fallen open at the Boy Wonder standing in front of him with a signature grin and a tiny orange cat trying to claw off his gloves.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Lost something there?" the boy quips, and Tim's cheeks are burning behind his mask because<em> oh my god, that's Jason Todd</em>, but then Robin winces as the cat digs her claws in, clearly not liking the feeling of the rough kevlar against her skin, and he laughs.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"She's not mine," he responds. Speedy didn't belong to anyone, one of the many strays that often stopped by Selina's window for a snack before running off to do whatever they did when they weren't yowling at his door and begging for treats. Tim liked keeping an eye on them when he was out and about, and he'd gotten worried when he hadn't found her in her usual alley. He'd finally found her on top of an apartment building roof she most definitely should not have been able to reach.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin frowns at him, giving him a once-over. Tim fought back the blush that tried to rise to his cheeks again as Robin took in the black tights and hoodie that Selina had given him for a costume.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He squints at him before his eyes widen in recognition. Tim wasn't sure what took him so long. "You're Cat's kid, aren't you? The one that gave Batman the slip." There's a touch of awe in Robin's voice, which almost makes up for the tackle that follows immediately after.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Speedy settles down comfortably on the cold concrete and watches the fight play out disinterestedly in front of her.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"You ain't gonna get away so easily this time, kid!" Robin shouts as Tim vaults over him, racing across the roof.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Not a kid," he yells back, before jumping and catching his whip on a telephone pole. Robin leaps after him, and Tim makes a sharp turn, swinging around a building.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He can hear the boy curse as he follows after him, but he's gaining ground, and Tim is smart enough to know that he's not going to be able to beat Robin in a game of rooftop tag with decidedly higher stakes.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Picking up the pace, Tim races till he's almost hit the Diamond District, where Selina keeps a safehouse under an alias for whenever a plan goes south or they're being tailed. But Robin has decided to bring his toys with him, something Tim is acutely aware of when a Batarang hits his back.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The armor he's wearing underneath the sweater deflects the hit, but the force of it knocks him over, cheek digging into the broken concrete on top of the roof. Before he has a chance to get back on his feet, Robin lands behind him and immediately jumps him, pulling his arms behind his back as if he's nothing more than any other two-bit thief.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Well, he's not, a fact that Tim makes abundantly clear when he arches, hearing the satisfying crunch of the boy's nose as the back of his head slams into it.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Taking advantage of his surprise, Tim rolls over, locking the boy's arms with his legs as he straddles him, slipping the picked cuffs off. Robin's face is covered in blood, and it takes a second for Tim to come out of the haze of <i>oh god I just took down Robin</i> to hear the litany of curses the other boy is spitting at him as he struggles and for him to realize <i>oh god I just broke Robin's face</i>.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Struggling to keep his panic under control, he smiles crookedly at the boy beneath him(a fact he's trying very hard not to think about), and asks in a light voice, as if they're just making idle conversation, "If I get up, will you handcuff me again?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin glares at him, giving one final jerk, before begrudgingly shaking his head. Tim quickly gets off of him, backing away as the boy pulls himself off the ground. He watches him warily, before pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and holding it up to his nose, poking at it lightly and wincing.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim has to try and hold back the laughter he feels bubble up when he sees the embroidered daisies on the handkerchief, but Robin notices it anyway. Surprisingly enough, instead of pummeling him into the ground, Robin only grins at him, teeth bloody, before huffing out a laugh as he grips his nose tighter.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim's a bit confused as to why he's so cheerful, but he edges slightly closer anyway because <em><em><em><em><em><em><em>Robin</em>. </em></em></em></em></em></em>The boy gives him a considering glance, before snorting. "Ya know, the report never mentioned that you were so tiny. I never woulda fought you if I knew you didn't look a day over nine."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em> <em> <em> <em> <em> <em>Tim's never felt more offended in his life. "I'm eleven!" he retorts. He immediately regrets it when the boy grins at him. </em> </em> </em> </em> </em> </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em><em><em><em><em><em>"</em></em></em></em></em></em>Oh yeah? Sorry, I just thought that most runts who weigh less than sixty pounds were firmly in the 'under ten' category."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Yeah, well I'm the sixty-pound runt who broke your nose."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin squinted at him, before shrugging. "Eh, you ain't the first and you ain't gonna be the last, kid." He sat down again, pulling out another handkerchief, this one patterned with poppies. Tim wondered where he was getting all of them from.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Instead of asking and coming off sounding like an idiot to his idol, Tim just crosses his arms. "Don't call me kid."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Oh?" The boy drawls, which makes Tim's heart do something funny that he refuses to acknowledge. "Well, you haven't exactly given me a name."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim shifts on his feet, looking at the boy strangely. "I'm not giving you my name."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin shrugs again, turning to look at him. "Well, if you're gonna be running with the capes, you gotta have a name to call you by. So what's it gonna be, Catboy? Kitty?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim immediately blushes, before glaring furiously at the boy, whose mask is crinkled with amusement. He cautiously sits down next to him. "No way. I want my name to be something cool."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin huffs. "You're lucky you get to pick yours. I got stuck with <i>Robin</i>.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em><em><em><em><em><em>"</em></em></em></em></em></em>Hey, what's wrong with Robin?" Tim replies indignantly.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Are you kidding me?" The boy looks at him incredulously. "Robin's are tiny little itty bitty birds. They don't really make you think of epic crime-fighting vigilantes."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"They do now."</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin gives him a tentative smile, and Tim's heart skips a beat at the genuineness behind it. He smiles back.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"What was the tabby's name?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Startled by the seemingly random question, Tim frowns at him. "Speedy. She's just one of the strays that come by Cat's place sometimes," he adds with a shrug.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Robin squints, before his whole face lights up. "I've got it!"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bracing himself for another bad pun, Tim raises a brow. "Yeah?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Stray!" That's... actually not that bad. Tim looks appraisingly at the grinning boy.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Stray," he tries it out. “I like it.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Well then, Stray, how would you feel about a rematch?” Robin asks, tucking the handkerchief’s back into god knows where as he stands up, bleeding having stopped.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tim grins at the hand the boy offers him, before looking up at his unsuspecting face.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Catch me if you can,” he shouts behind him as he drops the smoke bomb he’d nicked from Robin’s belt before booking it, laughing at the enraged shout that followed as he leaped off the building and into the city.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>where's jason getting all those handkerchiefs from????the world may never know<br/>hope y'all liked it! my tumblr is robinlikeitshot if u ever wanna ask anything or shoot me some prompts:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. tims a bad influence and blows things up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I need a favor, birdy."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so i didnt write this fic linearally, meaning that there is a bit of a style shift in a few chapters oop<br/>also, Tim was eleven in the last chapter, in this one its a bit more ambiguous but id say probs like a year has passed since they first met<br/>Warnings: mentions of human trafficking<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim lands on the sloped edge of the rooftop, where Robin was trying to blend, unsuccessfully, might he add, into the shadows. He fights back snickers when the boy obviously startles at the sight of his glowing goggles. </p><p>"Hey," he whispers, crawling up to join the vigilante where he was looking through a wide skylight to the warehouse below.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Robin asks, scooting slightly away. Tim rolls his eyes, grabbing the other's arm. </p><p>"I need a favor, birdy."</p><p>Robin frowns, looking back down the opening to the small party of mobsters, all obviously waiting for something. "I don't think Batman-"</p><p>Tim clucks his tongue, putting on his prettiest smile, the way Selina had taught him. "But Batman's not here, is he? Pretty please?"</p><p>The flush that rises to the boy's cheeks is gratifying, even as he stutters, "Stray-"</p><p>"Good." Clapping a hand over the boy's mouth to muffle his yelp, Tim flips them off the ledge, fingers crossed that his line holds true. An exhilarated grin crosses his face as they tumble into the false opening in the wall that Tim had checked two days prior. But the job isn't over yet, so he makes to get up and crawl through the small opening that spills into the rafters, but Robin's grip on his upper arm stops him.</p><p>"What the fuck was that!" the boy hisses, trying to get his bearings. They don't have much time, though, so Tim just pries his hand off.</p><p>"Wait for my cue, alright. Just," his voice softens at the other's look. "Just trust me, okay?" he pleads.</p><p>Tim can see Robin's throat click, but he nods and a warm fuzzy feeling bursts in his chest. Jason trusts him! </p><p>Before he can get too caught up in the feeling, though, Robin gives him a playful shove. "Thought you were in a rush, kitty." </p><p>Tim's brain freezes. "Kitty?" he finally shoves out, cheeks ablaze. </p><p>Robin just grins at him, which does something funny to Tim's stomach. Feeling decidedly <i>not</i> embarrassed, Tim makes a solely strategic retreat down the tunnel and pointedly ignores the other's quiet laughing behind him.</p><p>What he sees down below is definitely not good. The opposite of good. Bad. This is very, very bad. Twenty or so packing mid-level goons kind of bad. It probably shouldn't send a thrill of adrenaline down Tim's spine as he watches them argue, getting more agitated by the minute, but it does.</p><p>Shaking the tenseness out of his shoulders, Tim adopts a lazy smile and loose stance as he drops down from the rafters, relishing in the surprised cries surrounding him, dodging a shot from one of the more trigger happy gangsters. It wouldn't have mattered, what with the amount of armor Selina made him wear underneath his clothes, but he had appearances to keep.</p><p>Stray saunters up to the tall man standing at the front of the group, the amount of space that the others gave him clearly spelling out his position to Tim’s watchful eye. And Tim had enough information on Nathaniel Brillo to know exactly why his men gave him such a wide berth. </p><p>Tim places a hand at his hip, cocking it in a way that draws way too many stares. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" he drawls, catching sight of a bright red flash in the reflection of his goggles. Praying that Robin doesn't do anything stupid, Tim takes another step forward, trying to keep the man off guard.</p><p>It doesn't work, and Tim is now uncomfortably close to his chest. Still, he looks up, meeting his hard gaze with a sly smile.</p><p>"Where's my information, Stray?" Brillo says, skipping the pleasantries that Tim usually relies on to build a profile. It sets him off on the wrong foot, and suddenly he's all the more glad that he's got Robin on his side tonight.</p><p>"Ooh, straight to business I see." The man ignores his assessing gaze, just crossing his arms so he has better access to the guns strapped to his sides. Tim hopes that his nervousness isn't obvious as he falters on an easy laugh. "You know the drill, Brillo. Money first, goods second."</p><p>Tim's heart thumps in his chest as the man smiles. Definitely <i>not</i> good. He takes a step back, even as Brillo steps forward, and Tim has to fight not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of harbor and dead fish that wafts off of him.  "Are you sure you're in a position to be making demands right now?" he asks leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world as his goons heft their weapons. There's a distinct sound of safeties being clicked off.</p><p>He swallows, flipping through contingencies before landing on the plan that would best suit his current situation. Putting his hands up, Tim dangles the USB with the dirt the rising crime lord had wanted on Black Mask loosely held between his fingers. Tim sees Brillo's eyes snap to it, and he doesn't even try to suppress the triumphant smile that crosses his face.</p><p>"Now, now, boys. Let's not get all trigger-happy," he says, voice lilting even as he places a claw on the self-destruct button. Brillo's eyes narrow.</p><p>"Sorry, kitty-cat," he responds, and Tim barely has a second to slip the chip into his belt before he's being slammed into the floor, every gun in the vicinity immediately trained on him. He's too close to Brillo for them to try shooting, but even without the threat of the guns, the man's meaty hand around his neck will probably kill him first. He still doesn't give the signal, though he knows Robin will intervene if it looks like he can't handle it. </p><p>"-we don't take orders from little kids!" the man shouts at him, and Tim almost gags at his breath. "If Catwoman was serious 'bout her deal, she wouldn't have sent her little sidekick to do the dirty work for her." </p><p>Tim doesn't have much breath left, but with the little he has left, he gasps out, "Partner."</p><p>Brillo brings his fist back, presumably to try and knock him out, but before he gets the chance Tim sinks his claws into the man's meaty arm, and shouts, "Robin, now!"</p><p>Pandemonium erupts around the room as Robin drops down from the ceiling, batarangs flying. </p><p>A fierce grin erupts onto Tim's face as he flips the man on top of him over, whip wrapped tight around his throat before he passes out. Quickly throwing himself into a back handspring, Tim leaps out of the way of the haphazardly shooting guns, most of the bullets hitting their own men than even coming into close contact with him.</p><p>Tim's still not too great at hand to hand combat, but he does his best, flipping and evading till the perps were pretty much fighting each other. Looking up to see how Robin was faring, Tim's mouth goes dry. Because Stray may not be the best fighter, but Robin fights like a man possessed.</p><p>Tim shakes his head, thrown back into the situation at hand as one of the men tries rushing him. Taking him down quickly with one of Ivy's birthday gifts, Tim's eyes catch on the scant light reflecting on the muddy window Robin's jumped up to. Or more or less, the perfect opening.</p><p>Snapping his whip, Tim swings up to where Robin's trying to hold back on two men that are each twice his size. Jabbing them with a syringe filled with non-lethal tranq fixes the issue, even as he fumbles with his belt. </p><p>Taking the non-descript pod out, Tim turns to Robin, the smile on his face verging on insane. "Run."</p><p>Robin's face twists in confusion, and he opens his mouth in protest, but before either of them can say anything Tim's tackling him out of the window, glass shattering around the kevlar protecting Robin's back. They both land in a tangle of limbs on the adjoining roof as the warehouse behind them explodes.</p><p>Coughing, they separate themselves, brushing the glass shards from their suits as they get up. Tim's eyes are immediately affixed to the pretty dark smoke rising from the shattered window. He's so distracted, he doesn't even notice Robin sneaking up on him till the boy's punching his arm.</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"There were people in there, Stray!" Tim frowns. He didn't think that Jason would get so upset by a simple knock-out gas and- oh.</p><p>"I didn't kill them!" he exclaims, as Robin slumps in obvious relief in front of him. "It was just something to knock them out 'til the GCPD arrive."</p><p>Robin raises a brow at him, which draws his attention to the smudge of black soot on his cheek. "I thought you didn't work with the police. Aren’t they more interested in bringing you in than anything else?"</p><p>Tim crosses his arms, gaze drifting back to the blackened warehouse. "Maybe not," he admits. "But I definitely don't work with human traffickers."</p><p>Robin stiffens next to him. "They were traffickers?" His voice is angry, a simmering rage beneath its poor facade of calmness, leading Tim to wonder if he would be upset if Tim'd actually killed them after that little tidbit of information.</p><p>Tim nods, watching as Robin takes a breath, gloves scrunching as he makes a fist. Tim hesitates, just for a second, before reaching into his belt and pulling out the USB, offering it to the boy.</p><p>At the other's confused stare, Tim explains, "This has got enough incriminating evidence and information on it to keep them incarcerated for long enough that I can get any gang that ever considered doing business with them to hesitate even thinking about Brillo again." </p><p>Robin's mouth falls open in surprise, and Tim blames the heat on his cheeks on the previous fight. "You can do that?"</p><p>Tim smiles, genuine this time. "I can do things you've never heard of, birdy." </p><p>Robin doesn't take the bait, just reaches out to take the chip, hand lingering a second too long to be passed off as an accident. "Thanks, kitty." The nickname still irks him, but Tim'll give him a pass, this time.</p><p>He winks, reaching up to wipe some of the soot off Jason’s cheek, fingers brushing the mask as the boy holds his breath. “Anytime, Robin.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. tim goes into shock minimum of three times after meeting Dick Grayson</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Wanna get out of here?"</p><p>Robin raises a brow. "Yeah? And where are we going to go?"</p><p>"That ruins half the fun!" The dry look Robin levels at him makes Tim crack up, tugging his hand a bit as he pulls out his whip. "C'mon, I know a place."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so for Tim's b-day, ive decided to post a second chapter this week(i posted the fourth a little earlier, so make sure to check that one out first), whilst knowing full well that i haven't written the next, but, ya know<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If taken in front of any court of law, Tim will plead innocent to any and all accusations of him screeching like a strangled magpie when Robin tackled him behind the shipping container. Though with two-thirds of Gotham's law enforcement in his pocket (with the other third on their way), Tim doesn't think it'll be too hard to get acquitted. The only witness might prove to be a problem, though.</p><p>He scowls as Robin almost doubles over with laughter, clutching the sides of his fire-truck red uniform as Tim tries brushing off the dirt sticking to his pants after he'd been pushed unceremoniously on his ass. "I'm gonna get you for that, Robin," he warns, pulling his fists up again. </p><p>Robin, almost a head taller than him now after his growth spurt last summer, just smiles humorously at him from behind his mask, leaning up against the wooded shipping container. "I just did you a favor, kitty. You're still a bit too young to be getting Catwoman's full training course in seduction, right?"</p><p>"Don't call me-" That's when the noises Tim had previously assumed were of fighting, registered as something a little more... intimate. "Oh my god."</p><p>"Yup," the boy grinned down at him, popping the 'p' sound.</p><p>"We haven't even left yet."</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>Tim looks at him unamusedly, before reaching out and snagging one of his gloves. Smiling at the other's confusion, he tilts his head <i>just</i> enough that his hair falls a little onto his face as he asks, "Wanna get out of here?"</p><p>Robin raises a brow. "Yeah? And where are we going to go?"</p><p>"That ruins half the fun!" The dry look Robin levels at him makes Tim crack up, tugging his hand a bit as he pulls out his whip. "C'mon, I know a place."</p><p>_____</p><p>Robin looks impressed, and Tim's not sure what it means when the other boy's open smile sends butterflies fluttering down his stomach. Well, no, he <i>does</i> know what it means, he just really doesn't want to think about the logistics of <i>why</i> (he gets enough ribbing from Selina as it is).</p><p>"So what do you think?" he asks hopefully.</p><p>The ‘place’ is a carriage at the top of the old ferris-wheel that had been abandoned halfway through construction after funding ran out for the Amusement Mile relocation project. All the better for Tim, having squirreled away a few blankets and dry foods for midnight snacks, or for when he needs a place to lie low when he can’t go to one of his safehouses.</p><p>"It's amazing!" Robin exclaims, turning to shine the full brightness of his smile back at him from the almost picture-perfect view the box offers of the Kane Sound, underneath the almost constant fog that seems to plague the harbors.</p><p>"So kitty," Robin asks, sitting down next to him, just close enough that their thighs <i>almost</i> brush. "What have you been up to lately?" </p><p>It's a perfectly innocent question, but Tim narrows his eyes teasingly. "Sorry, Robin, but you know the rules." Grinning at the other's confused look, he continues, "Payment first, goods second," almost spluttering with laughter when the vigilante's face turns a tomato red.</p><p>His laughter abruptly cuts off when Robin leans in and gives his cheek a soft peck, right underneath the edge of his cowl. His lips are dry and chapped from the wind, and Tim finds himself tracing the spot on his cheek wonderingly as Robin pulls back.</p><p>"Tell me?" Robin asks after a few silent moments, uncharacteristically rough voice jerking him out of his reverie.</p><p>"Um, yeah, yeah. I-uh," Tim can't seem to find his tongue, and he just sits there for a few seconds, blinking as he presses his gloved fingers into his cheek. Robin thankfully doesn't tease him for it (for once), just sits there patiently looking out over the lights of Gotham's nightlife.</p><p>After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Tim is finally able to push the words out. "N-Nothing much," he says, voice almost a whisper as he picks out a stray thread on his sweater. "Just the same old."</p><p>"And what's that?" Jason's eyes are hidden away by his mask, but Tim desperately wishes he could see them. Swallowing, he asks, "Why do you want to know?"</p><p>It’s the wrong thing to say, which Tim is instantly aware of as he watches the open look on Robin's face close off. He curses himself silently as the boy swings himself up to the top of the carriage’s skeleton, leaving the empty space beside him cold.</p><p>"B thinks Cat's up to something." It's not what he wanted to say, Tim knows, has trained and perfected the art of spotting  tells. Robin's is the way he sucks in his cheeks just a little bit, so there's a little hollow next to his mouth when he speaks, voice coming out light and breezy rather than the low timber of their previous exchange. Tim's strangely disappointed, but he pushes down the feeling and pulls up one of his Stray smiles; a cutting grin that stretches across his face, because two can play that game.</p><p>"Hmmm," he drawls, stretching it out and keeping his eyes fixed on the skyline.</p><p>"Well, are you?" Tim looks up, grin tipping into something real at the sight of Robin's drawn together brow.</p><p>"Now, why would I tell you, birdy?" Laughing at Robin's groan, he doesn't even flinch at his abrupt descent back into the box, so used to the boy's antics by now.</p><p>"Strayyy," he whines, staring pitifully up at him from the lightly swinging floor of the carriage.</p><p>Tim just smirks down at him, shaking his head. "Sorry birdy, but this cat's gonna stay in his bag."</p><p>Robin groans again at the terrible pun, knocking his head back against the seat as he complains, "God, you sound just like Nightwing."</p><p>A cheery voice above them critiques, "Nah, I think your tone's a bit off."</p><p>Robin yelps in surprise, drowning out Tim's smaller shout as <i>Dick Grayson</i> drops down into the box. Recovering from the surprise much faster than Tim, Robin quickly stands up, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin up as he stares down the brightly smiling man.</p><p>"Speak his name and he shall appear," he grumbles, making Tim giggle a little bit. "Whatcha doing here, anyway," Robin demands, voice a bit deeper than the one he had been using with Tim.</p><p>This time, Nightwing seems to have lost the cheery tint to his voice, coming off more strained than anything else. "B asked me to come get you."</p><p>Tim finally finds his tongue(it was in his mouth all along). Before Robin can make whatever retort that's probably already lying on the tip of his tongue, Tim almost shouts in his excitement, "Oh god, you're Nightwing!"</p><p>Nightwing turns back to him, an easy smile already replacing the clench of his jaw. "And who is this, a new fan?" he asks, patting the top of Tim's hood. Tim blushes, impervious to the affection bestowed upon him by his long-time hero.</p><p>Before he can say, yes Mr. Nightwing, he's a very big fan, and maybe embarrass himself further by asking the man for his autograph because <i>that's Dick Grayson</i>, Robin's grumble cuts through his happy thoughts.</p><p>"No, fuck off N, he's a criminal." Tim's smile falls as he watches Robin turn away from him, frown tugging the corners of his mouth down.  </p><p>Before he can protest, though, Nightwing says to him, "You're Cat's kid, aren't you?"</p><p>His voice is still as bright and happy as ever, which leads Tim to hope that the man doesn't hate him yet, and he nods, "Yeah, I'm Stray-"</p><p>Robin interrupts him again, tapping at something on his wrist computer as he keeps not <i>not</i> looking at him. "C'mon, 'Wing, B's calling."</p><p>Nightwing frowns at him. "No, he's no-"</p><p>Robin makes a complicated hand-gesture at him, one that Tim knows he has no hope of deciphering (yet), to which Nightwing just sighs. "Bye, Stray," he makes sure to say to Tim, smiling as the blush on his face grows, waving goodbye before swinging out of the metal cage and into the night, leaving him alone with Robin.</p><p>"I'll see you tomorrow, birdy," Tim says, catching Robin's wrist before he can raise his grapple. Turning back at him, the boy smiles, raising his hand to brush the gauntleted knuckles lightly against his cheek.</p><p>"Be good," he murmurs, to which Tim can't help but laugh, throwing his head back.</p><p>"Who, little old me, causing trouble? Banish the thought, birdy."</p><p>Robin just quirks his lips, drawing Tim's eye, before he jumps out of the carriage, leaving him breathless as he watches the Boy Wonder fly over his city.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. bruce is an asshole but what else is new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Robin."</p>
<p>Robin slumps, almost imperceptibly as he drops the mock. "Don't give me that. I'm sure you already know what happened."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am unfortunately predisposed on sunday, which is the reason for this one-day early update. And as an apology for the schedule fuck-up, yall can have this doubly longer than usual chapter that got way out of hand and somehow ended up close to three k<br/>also gala scenes are literally the bane of my existence!!!<br/>(also also: some of u may have noticed the summary change: ive finally gotten into the last few chapters of the fic(and are we in for a long ride folks, i think ive hit thirty k by now) and i think it encompasses what this fic is about a lot more)<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Let's go over the plan one more time."</p>
<p>Tim fights the urge to roll his eyes as he repeats the plan for the eighth time this night. "We enter at quarter to eleven from points A and R, with you on distraction. I'll go in through the vents and disable the motion-trigger alarms, before initiating Part 2 and infiltrating the red zone and nabbing the bracelet at midnight. We make our exit after swiping as many baubles and the like by one, twenty minutes before the reveal."</p>
<p>Selina pouts at his boredom, ruffling his hair up a little bit. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I just worry, kitten." Tim knows where she's coming from- it's his first undercover mission, after all, and no matter how skilled or proficient he'd become as Catwoman's protege and partner, he'd never went out without the disguise of his goggles and the comforting weight of his armor on his back. He's never had to look the Greatest Detective in the World in the eye and lie through his <i>teeth</i>. </p>
<p>Tim can't help but feel excited, though. He'll finally be able to see Robin's eyes without the hindrance of a mask, and he couldn't help but wonder if they sparkle anything like they did in the front cover of the magazine Tim had shoved underneath his mattress to keep Selina from finding.</p>
<p>He squirms on the leather car seat as Selina reaches over, adjusting his tie for what seems like the umpteenth time. When she raises her hand to fidget with his hair again, though, he grabs it, shooting her a look. "You know, if you want to stick to the schedule, I suggest you make your entrance now."</p>
<p>She laughs at him, as pretty as the first time she'd held him up by the scruff of his neck and promised to keep him safe. "You and your schedules," she sighs, strands of hair artfully falling into her eyes as she shakes her head.</p>
<p>Tim leans back into the seat as she opens the door to avoid catching the flashing lights of the paparazzi bordering the carpet. Before she steps out, though, Selina turns back to him, sternness lining the set of her brow. "Be careful, kitten."</p>
<p>He smiles back, feeling warm despite the jitteriness of nerves that springs at the idea that his face, no matter how coated and powdered in make-up to hide his more defining features, <i>will</i> be caught on tape tonight. "Always, mama."</p>
<p>Taking that as her cue, Selina steps out, worry dissolving into a riveting smile as she immediately begins charming every person in her near vicinity. The driver, bribed heavily for his discretion, silently rolls them out of the entrance.</p>
<p>Going through the entrance, with the scarily good memories high-society folk tended to have about gossip that didn't involve them, would be too compromising to Tim's identity. Plus, having him go in with Selina would give them away almost immediately, and they couldn't have that, now, could they? Instead, he'd go through the server's entrance, being easily swept away in the hustle and bustle required for Gotham's newest museum exhibition. One that had a very, <i>very</i> pretty kitten-themed bracelet brought stateside by, of all the people, Tim's parents.</p>
<p>When Selina had first shown him the file, she'd been hesitant, not wanting to overstep. It made Tim feel like he had something to prove, knowing full well that the jewelry had been procured with barely legal means, Jack Drake using his social and monetary status to slip through legal loopholes.</p>
<p>Standing at ease by the server's entrance, he only has to wait a few minutes before his watch is chiming in the pattern he and Selina agreed upon earlier, telling him she had their pursuers in sight, and hopefully, soon in her carefully manicured clutches. Time to move.</p>
<p>Taking advantage of the busboy walking out to drop a garbage bag in the insulated dumpster, Tim slips in, the door shutting with a thump behind him as he seamlessly blends into the chaos that is the kitchen. Thanking the high heavens that Alfred Pennyworth had elected not to join the Wayne boys in attending the exhibition today, Tim drops to his knees, careful not to dirty the front of his pants as he quickly pulls the screws out of the small but manageable vent bare inches above the floor.</p>
<p>Once he has it open, he gives a quick glance around the room. Making sure no one's attention is on him, Tim quickly ducks into the small opening, shoulders catching just a little bit at the hard edges. It's a bit of work, but he manages to get the grate back on without the advantage of sight, having practiced countless times at their apartment.</p>
<p>Sneaking along the vents, Tim comes to a stop right before he hits the motion sensor he’d labeled on the layout of the place. He'd had to trade with a crooked security maintenance employee who'd wanted dirt on their cheating partner for the blueprint, but then everything in Gotham came at a price. And Tim knew that this one would definitely pay off. Decoding the program by hooking it up to the computer built into his watch, Tim slows down, knowing that he could never be too careful with WayneTech.</p>
<p>It switches off eventually, Tim arranging it so the notifications to the supervisor aren't sent. The rest of the system goes out with it, a domino effect that Tim takes way too much glee in watching topple. With that part of the plan finally done, he sends the alert to Selina that'll warm the bright stone lying against the base of her neck half-way across the building.</p>
<p>Unscrewing the next grate he comes across, Tim carefully lowers himself into a musty storage room, mindful of footsteps and forever wary of any indicators that there was someone else watching him. No one. Pulling up the blueprint of the building again, Tim carefully lets himself out of the room, the door closing behind him without even the tell-tale sound of a <i>click</i>.</p>
<p>Following the hallway down, he makes sure to stick to the edges of the passage and out of view of any sweeping cameras. Despite all his precautions, it still only takes him a few minutes to reach the room where his prize sat in all its glassy glory.</p>
<p>Opening one of the maintenance doors into the wide showroom, Tim creeps in, ears perked up and honed in on the bright, inebriated laughter and gossip from the other side of the double-arched wooden doors on the far end of the room leading into the reception. His eyes catch on the centerpiece, raised on its red pillowed pulpit and surrounded by bulletproof glass to keep out little boys with sticky fingers.</p>
<p>Good thing Tim's not as little as most would like to believe, and the museum security here is absolute shit- placing all their faith in an automated system is a constant problem in this day and age, one that Tim frequently takes advantage of, especially now as he simply lifts the glass off the pillow, a pair of cheap gloves that he'd shoved in his pocket earlier keeping any pesky fingerprints from sticking on.</p>
<p>Once the case is gone, it's simple to just pick up the bracelet- a beautiful piece, wrought in the 1800s by engineer Arnold Shchiosin, whose descendants had offered a hefty sum for its retrieval- and replace it with an almost identical match, made from cheap copper and iron that would only be noticed after everyone sobered up a little. The Wayne's making an impromptu visit had shaken up their plans a bit, but by splitting up, their plan still went as smoothly as ever.</p>
<p>Before he makes off with it, Tim can't help but take a second to slip the bracelet on, liking the way it flashes and catches the light from the huge strobes illuminating the empty room. A room that isn't empty a moment later, when the thick wooden doors scrape open just a little bit.</p>
<p>Panicking, Tim stuffs his hand into his suit pocket, wrenching the bracelet off as he watches <i>Jason Todd</i> sidle into the room. Oh no. Oh no no no. Tim was <i>so</i> fucked. Jason still hasn't appeared to notice him yet, though, what with him being half-hidden by the pillar, but that doesn't mean the elder won't in the few seconds it would take for him to turn his head. Realizing that there's no way he's going to be able to get out without being spotted, Tim makes his decision, no matter how shitty it might be in foresight.</p>
<p>Stepping out with the bracelet a heavy weight in his pocket, he schools his features into that of an innocent young child, his lip just slightly quivering as he calls out, "Hello?"</p>
<p>Jason imperceptibly startles, jerking around to look at him. What concerns Tim, though, is the obvious slump of relief at only seeing him. Was the boy hiding from someone?</p>
<p>In a voice not betraying the tenseness of his shoulders, Jason asks, "Hi? What are you doing here, kid, they haven't opened the gallery yet." His eyes narrow in suspicion, something Tim knows he can't leave without rectifying (and even though Tim feels just a tiny bit hurt that Jason doesn’t recognize him, can’t tell who he is, he sternly reminds himself that it’s a good thing for him and to stop dawdling on useless emotions).</p>
<p>Forcing his eyes to well up, he sniffs delicately, falling back into the mask of the little child so many people mistook him for, internally grinning at Jason's immediately widened eyes. "I- I don't know where I am, I just, I was looking for the b-b-bathroom, and I-" Tim pauses here to very obviously wipe at his nose, blowing for effect. "I c-can't find my mommy anywhere and I've been looking all over!"</p>
<p>Maybe he'd laid it on a bit thick, because he can see the very obvious almost-panic on Jason's face at being faced with a crying child. And that's also when he starts to notice <i>other</i> things about Jason's face that he had previously missed. Namely, the deep, dark shadows underneath his eyes, and the slight rim of redness that surround them. Is this how Jason always looks? It can't be, right? Something had to have happened. And if there's one thing that Tim's good at, it's wringing people of their information.</p>
<p>"Come on, kid. I'll help you find your mom." Taking the proferred hand, Tim can't help the well of pride that washes over him at how selfless Robin is, but he quickly pushes it down, reminding himself of how man Robin would probably be if he knew the little boy he was leading by the hand was actually his sometimes friend-sometimes nemesis Stray.</p>
<p>Jason leads him into the loud reception, and they're immediately accosted by a dozen suits and dresses that artfully swish and flutter and generally bother as Jason tries to wind them through the crowd. Taking advantage of the commotion, Tim makes eye contact with Selina, who's a little farther away from him, before nodding and (regretfully) loosening Jason's hand, letting himself get lost in the crowd.</p>
<p>It doesn't take more than five minutes for him to reach the entrance, where he ducks behind the security's guard and discreetly escapes, the cool air blowing out before the doors close behind him. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he almost sighs in relief as he feels the sharp cut of the entwined emerald and rubies. He hadn't been found out.</p>
<p>He walks to where he'd stashed his bike earlier for the night, trying his best to appear casual. The expensive suit jacket he's wearing isn't so out of place for the high-end part of the city, but it's still Gotham, and the chances of him getting jumped are still too high for him to be easy without the weight of a whip at his waist. Luckily, he makes it to the bike unconfronted, and he quickly races out of the alley, making his way to the pre-approved safe house that they'd frequent till the drop-off.</p>
<p>Keying in the front door of the apartment feels a bit surreal, what with his all too frequent use of windows and fire escapes over any normal forms of entrances, but he barely even focuses on it, mind too occupied with the look on Jason's face as he'd closed the door behind him, out of sight of the museum-goers. He'll find out what happened, and then he can help Robin out! He's done it a few times, with his cases and such, but Tim has a feeling this is a bit more personal.</p>
<p>Cracking open his computer, Tim sets to work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Any bit of guilt that Tim feels at sticking his nose into his friend's business evaporates at the sight of Robin's flushed face, uniform haphazardly put on as he yells at his stoic mentor.</p>
<p>"You can't bench me!"</p>
<p>"I can, and I did. I can't patrol with someone I don't trust. Go home, Robin." With these final words, Batman turns around, cape billowing out behind him as he grapples off the rooftop. Robin sinks down to his knees after him, burying his face in his bare hands, obviously having forgotten to put his gloves on in his haste.</p>
<p>Tim takes the opportunity to drop down from the streetlight he'd been perched on. Robin flinches when he sees him, scrambling back a bit before relaxing when he sees it's only him, which sends a feeling of déjà vu through him.</p>
<p>"Oh, hey Stray," the boy mutters, picking himself up and discreetly scrubbing at his face. "Ya need something?"</p>
<p>Tim shakes his head, coming to stand a little closer when it seems like he's got a hold of himself. "I heard you yelling at Batman, earlier," he says, softly, trying not to overstep.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Robin replies, voice a horribly fake cheery intonation that grates on Tim. "So a regular patrol, then."</p>
<p>"Robin."</p>
<p>Robin slumps, almost imperceptibly as he drops the mock. "Don't give me that. I'm sure you already know what happened." Tim tries to dismiss the bitterness in his tone as directed to Batman, not him. He knows how much Robin hates it when Stray does his whole information trading schtick, but in the end, it's who he is, someone on the <i>other</i> side of the law, something that no amount of teasing banter will erase.</p>
<p>Right now, though, Tim pushes those thoughts aside, focusing on the more important issue at hand. Nodding, he admits, "Yes." When Robin looks away from him, Tim places a steady hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>"Then you know what I did. You know why B benched me."</p>
<p>"Bir-"</p>
<p>"He thinks I killed someone," Robin's voice is bordering on hysterical as he <i>shakes</i>. "I didn't, I swear, I didn't, but he- he doesn't trust me anymore."</p>
<p>Tim holds him until the cracked breaths steady out, and then he holds him for just a little while longer. Robin lets him, pulling away only after Tim has to shift because of a cramp building up in his leg.</p>
<p>"Thanks," he mutters, cheeks tinged with embarrassment.</p>
<p>Tim nods, acknowledging it, before reaching into the pocket at the back of his sweater, big enough to keep the documents secure and uncrinkled. Pulling out a rather light file Tim had spent the past three days compiling, he hands it to the other boy.</p>
<p>Robin takes it, brow furrowing in confusion till he flips it open. When he looks down on the first photograph, his face immediately falls apart in shock. Tracing the edges of the photo, Jason looks up at Tim from the image of himself standing on the far end of a rooftop, hand stretched out in front of him, but most importantly; not anywhere near the man tipping off the edge on the other side of the roof. His face is a mixture of gratitude and surprise.</p>
<p>Tim flips to the next page, the one where Robin is swinging down on his grapple, obviously reaching for the man falling to his death below just a second too late, but Robin puts the file to the side, grasping his shoulder.</p>
<p>"They're real?" His voice is tremulous, and Tim chooses his next words carefully in fear of breaking the mask of barely held together vigilante in front of him.</p>
<p>"It is. A few of my runners got angles of the fight, and the credentials to prove they're not fake are at the back of the file, here, let me-"</p>
<p>Robin cuts off his explanation, dragging him into a hug. This is normally the part where Tim would squirm, kicking and complaining about the stench of post-patrol vigilante, but the small wetness gathering where Robin's hidden his face in the small patch of skin showing on his neck is all too obvious, so instead he sits, offering whatever comfort he can.</p>
<p>When he pulls back, Tim is almost blown away by the earnest look on Robin's face as he grasps his hand, the bare skin almost uncharacteristically soft. "Thank you, Stray."</p>
<p>Tim quirks his lips, brushing away a few curls that had fallen into the boy's domino. "Anytime, birdy."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ill give y'all one more chapter of fluff, how bout it?<br/>also the kiss scene is coming and I'm really excited for it ngl!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. things go good, before going very, very bad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason's gaze is set on the city skyline, hands fidgeting and fisting his domino. "I have to go."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"My mom," he answers, swallowing, the light wind streaking the rooftops at this time of night making his curls sway slightly. "She's in Ethiopia, and I'm going to find her."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey so i know i said i would only update once a week but time is a government construct and the only bitch i fuck with anymore is instant gratification, so</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey birdy," Tim calls out as he lands on the rooftop of the address Robin sent him earlier through one of his runners, tucking the handle of his whip back into his belt.</p><p>The boy in question doesn't answer, so Tim ventures a little closer to the raised edge where he's sitting, dangling his bare legs in the still muggy air (if you could even call the positively boiling soup that had descended upon the city air) that seems to plague Gotham's summers. "Are you alright, Robin?"</p><p>"Hey, kitty-cat." Instead of protesting the name like usual, Tim just sits down next to him, trying to quell the icy nerves shooting through his veins at the other's serious tone and oddly solemn face.</p><p>"Hey. Is... is something wrong?" Because something must have happened, the look on Robin's face so far from the usual brash excitement the other wears all the time like its just a part of his traffic-light costume, and even though Tim hates how hesitant he feels, he has to ask.</p><p>Robin's throat clicks, and Tim takes the opportunity to silently weave their gloved fingers together, trying to urge the other on with the silent encouragement. Instead of saying anything, though, all Robin does is hold up a picture of a waterlogged birth-certificate, of all things.</p><p>Frowning, Tim takes it. It looks authentic, if not a bit worn, and- oh. Oh, that's Robin's name. Tim had, of course, already known it, but the idea that Jason was so implicitly trusting him with it, with such sensitive personal information... Sneaking a glance at Jason's face doesn't yield many results, what with him having turned his face away from Tim. The grip on his hand is as tight as ever, though, so Tim continues to read on.</p><p>The father's name is heavily inked out, which makes a well of guilt pool in the bottom of Tim's stomach, because he knows about Willis Todd, knows the kind of man he is. Robin obviously hadn’t wanted him to know, had freely offered information about his mother but had always been tight-lipped about the abuser, making this probably the first time Tim felt bad for an invasion of privacy. </p><p>When he finally gets to his mother's name, though, Tim stops. Reads it again. Looks back up at the back of Jason's head and then back down again. The printed 'S' is as clear as ever though, and Tim's curiosity won’t let him sit quiet till he asks, "I thought your mother's name was Catharine?"</p><p>Jason's voice cracks as he replies, "Yeah. So did I."</p><p>So that's what this is about. Dropping the photocopy next to him, Tim engulfs him in a hug, the other almost falling into it, trembling minutely. "I'm so sorry, Jason."</p><p>Jason smiles weakly at him, picking up the piece of paper and tucking it back into his belt. "You don't seem surprised."</p><p>Tim hesitates, before confessing (because Jason doesn't deserve people keeping secrets from him, not anymore), "I, uh. I already knew."</p><p>Trying not to panic at Jason's immediately guarded face, he hurriedly continues. "I figured it out years ago, back when Nightwing was Robin. I, um, I saw him do this flip at the circus when I was four, and five years later I saw Robin do the exact same move, and it just, it just kind of clicked, I guess," he finishes lamely, hands dropping from where he realizes he was gesturing through his rambling explanation.</p><p>The look of adoration on Robin's face stems his embarrassment, and when his gloved hand reaches up to his mask, Tim's breath gets caught in his throat. "I always knew you were a genius," he whispers, and Tim's not ashamed to say he honest to goodness gasps when he sees Jason's pretty teal eyes blinking at him from behind the residual adhesive still stuck in his long lashes.</p><p>"Tim," he finally chokes out. At Robin's confused look (which is all the more enrapturing now that he can see the way his eyes widen, the blue-green shocking after so many years of impersonal white), he shoves back his hood, taking his goggles along with it. "Tim Drake. My name."</p><p>Jason's lips part, a pretty pink that Tim doesn't think he's ever thought that much about before, but is now is the only thing on his mind because Jason's leaning in and-</p><p>Their lips barely brush in the few seconds the kiss lasts, but Tim knows the feeling of Jason's warm exhale on his lips as he stares into his wide eyes is going to be a memory forever imprinted in his mind.</p><p>"That... I- Tim," he finally says, lightly stroking Tim's cheek with fingers he only now registers as un-gauntleted. "You're beautiful."</p><p>A light blush steals across his face, something the other hadn't been able to make rise out of him for almost a year now, but the sincerity in Jason's voice is too much for Stray's signature sly indifference to hold up against.</p><p>"So are you."</p><p>Jason's eyes widen in surprise, and a ridiculous burst of warmth surges inside Tim because he can <i>see</i> that now. The grip on his hand tightens before suddenly slacking, pulling away as the elder gets up.</p><p>"Jay?" Tim asks, confused, as he follows him up.</p><p>Jason's gaze is set on the city skyline, hands fidgeting and fisting his domino. "I have to go."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"My mom," he answers, swallowing, the light wind streaking the rooftops at this time of night making his curls sway slightly. "She's in Ethiopia, and I'm going to find her."</p><p>Tim fits his hand back into the other's, slowly loosening the clench of his fist. "Is there anything I can do?"</p><p>Jason frowns, shaking his head. "Thanks, kitty, but I have to do this on my own."</p><p>Tim nods. "I understand." Because the night he finally pulled a stint at the Drake's, to steal back a 1400s vase from the Ming Dynasty that his parents pulled strings in legal loopholes to acquire, he'd gone himself, leaving that house and shedding every single memory of the parents who dropped him the second it was convenient.</p><p>When Jason doesn't answer, he continues, albeit a bit hesitantly. "I'll miss you."</p><p>Jason turns back to him at that, a Robin grin finally brightening up the grave set of his features, the corners of his mouth tugging up. "It won't be for long, alright? I'll see you soon, I promise."</p><p>Tim nods, feeling just a little bit lightheaded as Jason fits his thumb under his jaw, lifting his chin up a little to greet his smile before continuing, this time softer. "Then maybe," and his eyes warm, "we can go on a real life date. Somewhere not on a rooftop two minutes away from the fishing district."</p><p>"As Tim and Jason?"</p><p>"As Tim and Jason."</p><p>Tim quirks his lips, leaning back. "And what'll Batman think of that, I wonder?" he can't help but ask.</p><p>Jason just smirks back, familiar teasing light falling over the tired shadows underneath his eyes. "Fuck Batman."</p><p>Tim lets out a laugh, accepting the proferred hug. "I'll hold you to that," he promises.</p><p>Pressing another kiss to the top of his soft hair, Jason murmurs, "I'm counting on it, Timmy."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i think we all know what comes next:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. selinas boutta kick jokers ass while pam roots silently in the background</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tim was having an honest to goodness good day. He’d woken up three minutes before his alarm, the sun was shining, and the safe was stocked with the diamonds from last night’s heist. All was well with the world. </p><p>He should have known it was too good to be true.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*me, rubbing my hands evilly whilst hunched over my computer in the dark<br/>*my brother, walking past: ...what are you doing<br/>*me, plotting the demise and subsequent grief of pre-pubescent vigilantes: um<br/>ayy, so apparently all self-control is being flung out the window, so ima treat yall to three chapters today<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim was having an honest to goodness good day. He’d woken up three minutes before his alarm, the sun was shining, and the safe was stocked with the diamonds from last night’s heist. All was well with the world. </p><p>He should have known it was too good to be true (it is Gotham, after all). Suspicion sets in when his nose catches a whiff of a heavenly scent wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. Selina was making coffee. She never, not even after three years of bribery and begging, allowed him to have coffee in the apartment, and he’d have to make do with trying to sneak into 24/7 coffee shops whenever Catwoman so much as turned her back.</p><p>He tentatively walked down the stairs, skipping over the squeaky board. Selina’s voice, uncharacteristically tense, grew louder as he crouched behind the door, trying to figure out who she was talking to. Peeking through the crack, he watched her sigh, before putting down the phone she was speaking into. His eyes grew wide as she buried her face in her hands, taking a shuddering breath.  </p><p>“You can come in, kitten,” she called out.</p><p>Cheeks a bit red at being caught, he shuffled into the room, fingers closing around the proffered mug to inhale the rich scent. Taking a silent note of her red-rimmed eyes, he takes a sip, a thousand scenarios running around his mind as to who had made his mother cry.</p><p>“Mr. Wayne called me.” </p><p>Her voice shook. Tim put down his mug.</p><p>An undercurrent of steel runs through his voice when he asks, “What did he do this time?”</p><p>“He-” She sighed again, running a hand down her tired face before gesturing to the living room. “He didn’t do anything, kitten. I… I think you should sit down.”</p><p>Frowning, he curled up on the couch, anxiety rising as Selina swiped at her wet eyes. "I don't know how to tell you this, Tim. I'm... I'm so sorry."</p><p>"Selina, what's <i>wrong</i>?"</p><p>"Oh kitten, Jason-"</p><p>Immediately Tim's heart jumps to his throat. The look of determination on Jason's face as he told Stray he'd be back soon was the only thing he could think about as Selina said-</p><p>"Jason's dead, Tim."</p><p>Tim feels numb. Jason can't be dead, Selina can't be right because Jason told him he'd be back, he'd <i>promised</i>, but Selina would never lie to him so what-</p><p>"What happened." Internally, Tim winces at his voice. It sounds cold, dead. Selina's flinch makes him feel like absolute shit, but he can't seem to move, can't get up and hug her and bury his face into her neck like he'd do when he was little. He's paralyzed, sitting on the couch with white noise ringing in his ears.</p><p>"The- the Joker got him. His mother too. Bruce tried to- he tried to get to him, but Jason hadn't told him where he'd gone and by the time-" Selina clears her throat, eyes watering again. </p><p>"By the time he'd gotten there, Jason and his mother were dead. The Joker blew- he blew the warehouse. With Robin inside." </p><p>Tears are slipping down Selina's face again, but Tim's feels dry. His chest feels tight, and his head feels heavy, and he can't <i>breathe</i>.</p><p>"Tim-"</p><p>"Where is he?" He pushes out, tongue uncooperative.</p><p>Selina sighs. "Arkham."</p><p>Tim feels a surge of anger rise up inside him, as he finally gets up, almost shouting, "Arkham? You mean the place he was able to get out of long enough to <i>kill</i> Jason? Ark- he doesn't deserve <i>Arkham</i>! Not after- I-"</p><p>Suddenly he can't talk, the words in his mouth too heavy as he picks up his mug and throws it against the wall. He watches it impassively as it shatters, raining against the carpet.</p><p>Selina doesn't look worried, or startled, just... sad. She watches as he picks up a vase, hurtling it against the floor as he <i>screams</i>. </p><p>It's only after he upended the coffee table, the room looking nothing like the one he'd entered just- just ten minutes ago, ten minutes that felt like years, <i>decades</i>, that she gets up. </p><p>As he raises his fist to punch the wall, because even if it hurt it couldn't ever be as much pain as Jason went through, his friend, his <i>Robin</i>, Selina's hand curls around his wrist.</p><p>He stares numbly as she gently loosens his fingers from their clenched hold, and murmurs, "I don't think you want to do that, honey."</p><p>Still feeling as if he was floating away from his body with every second, Tim buries his face into Selina's soft hair and lets out a shuddering sob.</p><p>The waterworks open, he can't seem to stop, as the realization that he was never going to play tag on the rooftops with Jason again sinks in, that he's never going to feel the other's chapped lips on his again, nervous and hesitant, but still smiling. God, he's never going to see Jason's <i>smile</i> again, bright and full, and lighting up his whole world.</p><p>Jason's smile the last time Tim'd seen him, promising to take him on a real date, without their masks and lies and secrets is the last thing on his mind as exhaustion finally sets in, and, despite it being ten o'clock in the morning, falls into a restless sleep.</p><p>_____</p><p>Selina leans against the doorframe, watching her son sleep. There are still tear tracks on his face, and his blankets are rumpled from where he was thrashing earlier. </p><p>She sighs, turning the lights off before making her way back to the kitchen where merely two hours ago she had been debating whether to make pancakes or waffles for breakfast when she'd gotten that call from Bruce.</p><p>Sitting down at the island, she feels something hard curling around her heart as she thinks of the way Tim had sobbed himself to sleep on her shoulder, and she pulls out her phone, and rings up Pam.</p><p>"Do you have her with you?"</p><p>"Hello to you too, Selina," comes the tired reply. "And yes, she's with me. I was finally able to lull her to sleep and she dropped off barely three minutes ago."</p><p>"Sorry, it's just... it's been a hell of a morning. Tim's not taking it well," she replies, leaning back and closing her eyes.</p><p>"I can imagine, the poor boy. I wish I could come to see him, but I can't leave Harley alone right now," Pam says, and Selina can just barely make out a faint rustling sound followed by gentle shushing.</p><p>When Pam gets back on the line, Selina adds, "And Harley's probably the last person he'd want to see, aside from the pasty-faced asshole himself."</p><p>"Yeah, I'm- I'm trying to reach her Selina, but that, that bastard has just gotten her so obsessed with him, she's alternating between crying and," Pam takes a quick breath, and Selina's brow furrows in concern as she continues. </p><p>"And laughing. Hysterically. I sedated her when she started looking like she was going to pass out from oxygen deprivation."</p><p>"She saying anything about him?" she asks, not quite sure she wanted to know the answer. If need be, Catwoman could certainly take out Harlequin, but she still held out hope that she wouldn't have to. </p><p>"She's mad. Real mad. She keeps on talking about how this wasn't part of 'the plan,' and that 'Mr. J' was only supposed to scare the little birdy. And we all know how that turned out," Pam says, voice rising as she talks about the Joker.</p><p> It was no secret the hatred that Poison Ivy harbored for the insane clown, for everything that he'd done to her girlfriend and everything he was <i>still</i> doing to her.</p><p>“Just. Just keep her out of trouble, Pam. As long as she’s not back in Arkham, not near <i>him</i>, we shouldn’t have to worry.”</p><p>“I know, but… he always seems to find a way out, Sel,” comes her reply, and Selina doesn’t want to admit it, but her friend sounds scared and-</p><p>“Don’t worry, Pam. If he makes it out, he’s not going back in alive.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>big oof<br/>(also, ive got like three more chapters lined up, so enjoy this while you still can yall)<br/>(also also, i crave interaction so if you wanna yell at me about hurting these babies pls feel free to dm me over at https://robinlikeitshot.tumblr.com )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. batman is an even bigger asshole and tim goes on an adventure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"What do you think you're doing to my son?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me, posting another chapter today even though i explicitly said i wasn't going to: ...<br/>heyy, so there's a time jump in this one yall, this ch. has Tim bridging the gap between 14 and 15, alright enjoy the show<br/>(also, TW for ras being creepy and batman beating up a minor)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing left for him in Gotham. </p><p>Jason's memory clung to every gargoyle, every rooftop, every little meeting place that Tim couldn't even look at without feeling like he’s staring down at Jason’s grave all over again. </p><p>He knew Selina was worried about him. She was already stretched thin, what with grieving Jason herself, and then trying her best to manage Batman's.</p><p>The man was going off the deep end. Tim could see it, clear as day, and he knew his mama had picked up on it too. But it had only really hit him when Batman was pummeling his face into the brick wall of the rooftop across the Sprang river where Robin and he'd had their first, their <i>only</i> kiss.</p><p>Stray had been combing the Upper East Side, letting his sticky fingers go where they pleased when he realized he'd been slowly drifting towards the place where he’d had one of the best moments of his life.</p><p>Boots barely touching the ground, he hardly had time to reminiscence as his arms were immediately twisted behind his back, face shoved into the dirt. There’s only one man who can sneak up on him to get close enough to attack.</p><p>Still, Tim thinks as his bottom lip splits from a blow from one of Batman’s gauntlets, he’d eavesdropped on a couple of their fights, and from what he’d gathered Bruce was being uncooperative, lashing out blindly in his grief (another strike makes something in his nose crack ominously).</p><p> He wasn’t far from crossing a line, and Tim didn’t want Selina to be there when he did. So at least his bruised and bloody face wouldn’t be all for nothing. </p><p>The distress beacon he'd activated two minutes ago should be sending her his location, and he idly wonders when she'll get here, watching the black spots dance around the corners of his vision. </p><p>Batman pulls his fist back once more, and Tim closes his eyes, flinching.</p><p>When nothing happens, he opens them incrementally (the swollen eye didn't allow for much more), relief coursing through his battered body at the sight of Catwoman's whip wrapped around the man's arm. </p><p>"What do you think you're doing to my son?” She’s dropped her sultry purr for an enraged hiss, claws sharp as she drags Bruce away from him, trying to shield him even as she fights.</p><p>She won’t be able to beat him; the only times he’s ever lost against her is when she pulled out her seduction tactics, and those won’t work on him now, not with the way he’s been acting. They needed to get out, and fast.</p><p>His attempts to move his hands are feasible at best, but he manages to type in the necessary sequence just as Batman knocks Catwoman to the ground. The explosion only distracts him for a moment, but a moment was all she needed.</p><p>Selina was up like a shot, dropping one of Ivy’s little presents on the Bat before turning around and snatching Tim up. Batman gets his rebreather on and bursts through the smoke-</p><p>-only to find a patch of cooling blood, the two of them long gone.</p><p>_____</p><p> </p><p>After many long and tiring arguments, most that end with Tim locking himself in with the cats for hours on end before coming out with apologies spilling from his lips to match his bloodshot eyes, Selina suggests that maybe Gotham isn't the best place for him right now. Tim knows she's right, but it's still hard to leave his only memories of Jason behind. </p><p>Still, he goes to the airport, hugs his mother goodbye, hops on a flight, and no matter how much his hands shake at the rumble of the death-machine when it takes off, puts on a brave face and enters the world.</p><p> It's not like he's never been out of Gotham before, Selina had taken him all over; Hong Kong, London, Paris, Berlin, all hotspots for Catwoman’s special brand of sticky fingers. But this was different, this was just him by himself, trying to find <i>something(anything)</i>. </p><p>Still, he's Tim Drake and Tim Drake can't do anything without at least something to show for it, and so he pulls strings, calling in favors from Selina, and he finds Shiva. His time with her is exhilarating, and when he leaves it's not without an ally and a whispered rumor of a silent little girl. He finds King Snake, Dead Shot, dozens of others, sucks up knowledge like a sponge, networks like the best of them, before hopping on another plane and moving to another hemisphere.</p><p> It ends as most things are oft to do; in Ra's al Ghul's Cradle, the aforementioned man's sword sharp at his throat, surrounded by angry assassins, and a little <i>surprise</i> up his sleeve.</p><p>"Now, Timothy," Ra's drawls, barely bothering to conceal the anger and venom and <i>amusement</i> lacing his words. "I am very aware of your intellectual qualities. So may I ask <i>why</i> exactly you decided to hack into the League’s computer systems when you were fully aware of what the consequences would entail?"</p><p>Tim turns his head, just a little bit so the blade cuts just slightly into the leather of his new suit, the one he'd bribed a... seamstress, for lack of a better word, to make for him back in the Netherlands. Shame, he's not sure he has the materials to stitch it back himself. </p><p>Idly wondering as to the material of the weapon at his throat, Tim smiles luridly at the current man attempting to loom over him. Unfortunately for him, Tim has had one too many encounters with his very successful trainee, making him practically immune to it now(even without the bright splash of red and green in his periphery). </p><p>“I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Ra's," Tim replies pleasantly, slightly rubbing his wrists together (the ropes were beginning to chafe).</p><p>The masked indifference on Ra's face twitches in irritation. "Do not play dumb with me, Timothy. The League's computer network is down, a quarter of our bases are unresponsive, and there is no outlying variable but you. The only thing I wish to know is why you were not able to cover your tracks better, surely your time here has taught you at least that, even if it seemingly failed in the topic of respect."</p><p>Tim has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe I wanted you to find out,” he teases, before leaning back as far as he can on his knees to look up at the man. “And how do you not know I was not doing a favor to you? Your systems security is obviously lacking that a fifteen-year-old child could so surreptitiously hack it, perhaps I was just attempting to point it out to you.”</p><p>Ra’s tips his head in a farce of consideration, but Tim already knows that possibility and a thousand different others have already crossed the immortal’s mind. “And what of the six unresponsive bases? Were those explosions merely a <i>favor</i>?”</p><p>“Every one of those bases was infiltrated, and a likely sinkhole of your resources. So yes, I was.” </p><p>Ra’s raised his eyebrow as angry murmurs broke among the ranks. “And how did you come upon this information, Timothy?”</p><p>Tim grinned. “The Batcomputer.”</p><p>Ra’s was silent for a moment, before waving his hand as the room quickly cleared itself, leaving Tim on his knees with a sword up against his throat.</p><p>Ra’s no longer looks openly threatening, as he sits back on his throne, leaving the blade loosely on his shoulder. Tim pushes it aside, receiving no more than a look as he says, “You were given no access to any materials of the caliber to successfully hack the Batcave. But then I suppose that makes your feat all the more impressive.” </p><p>He leaned forward, a spark in his bright green eyes that Tim knew how to manipulate like the back of his hand, no matter how much it made his skin crawl. “You interest me, Timothy. And it has been quite a long time since something has captivated me so.”</p><p>Ignoring the fact that Ra’s just referred to him as a thing, Tim smiles impishly at him, showing off his teeth as he replies, “Oh, it can’t have been more than a couple hundred years, right?”</p><p>Ra’s smiles back indulgently at him, before tipping his head and reading the question in the set of his shoulders. “You have my permission to leave, Timothy. You learn quickly, and there is not much left for my assassins to teach you.”</p><p>Tim tries to get up then, but Ra’s catches his wrist with deadly precision. He swallows. </p><p>“However. If you ever wish to train under the tutelage of the Demon’s Head himself, my doors are always open to you. Detective.” This time, the look in the man’s eyes makes Tim want to fairly rip his skin off.</p><p>Tim allows his gaze to widen only slightly, before he shakes his wrist free, nodding back. “I’ll keep it in mind, Ra’s.”</p><p>“See that you do.”</p><p>And with that, Tim walks out of the Demon’s lair, a fake ID and a ticket to Gotham already in hand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>god, i cant wait to kill the joker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. selina tells tim to be careful and he immediately jumps to first-degree murder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"What are you planning?" Her voice is as light as if they were still discussing lunch plans with their friends - said friends being high contenders in the Rogue's gallery nonetheless.</p><p>His hand finds hers. "I can't tell you."</p><p>She doesn't like it, but she doesn't have to. One of the first things she'd taught him when he first started training with her was that he wasn’t her sidekick, that they were partners, and that meant compromise. </p><p>“Promise me you’ll stay safe.” As safe as he can while running around Gotham in a skintight leather suit, anyway.</p><p>“I’ll try.” It’s the most he can give her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey yall whats up hope things are going well with yall this week(also i still cant believe its fucking august already wtf quarantine is wild)<br/>for this chapter, tim kinda spans the age between 15-16 (jasons 18, 19, and its just a bit before he returns to gotham) since there's about a years gap between the first and second part of this chapter. this is the final chapter in the first phase, and we'll do a major time skip in the next one where we'll start getting into the plot, which, excitement!!!<br/>btw if anyone wants to check out the map of gotham i used for this fic: http://www.eliotrbrown.com/0001.php<br/>hope you like it, enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It looks different." And Tim's not really sure what he expected, but -</p><p>"You were gone for a year, kitten." Selena's soft voice draws him out of that train of thought, and he leans further back into her warm embrace, surveying Gotham's twinkling lights.</p><p>"Yeah," he murmurs. He feels odd, different. The city hasn't changed so much as he has, and while the rooftops still bring back memories, they don't hurt like they used to. </p><p>"Ya know," Selina continues, light and playful as they teeter on the edge of a repurposed warehouse not too far away from her haunt in Crime Alley. "Harley's real excited to see you back. She was sad she wasn't able to see you before she left."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah me too. How is she?" The question is carefully phrased, but Selina picks up on its implications. </p><p>"She's doing good. She's been staying with Pam, and they'd asked me if you wanted to come over for lunch soon." </p><p>Considering the invitation and all that it implied, Tim turns his head, looking at his mother. "I'd like that."</p><p>She smiles, pulling him closer to her, as both their gazes stray back to the foreboding building across the Sprang river. </p><p>Arkham Asylum hadn't had a major breakout in the past three years, ever since its security had been put on the priority list of the most talented hacker on this side of the US.  </p><p>Tim never thought he'd ever resent Batgirl - or Oracle now, going by the rumors - but with the Joker too locked up for even his sticky fingers to reach, his plans will have to be altered. That's okay, though. Tim can be patient.</p><p>He's been patient for the past two years.</p><p>"What are you planning?" Her voice is as light as if they were still discussing lunch plans with their friends - said friends being high contenders in the Rogue's gallery nonetheless.</p><p>His hand finds hers. "I can't tell you."</p><p>She doesn't like it, but she doesn't have to. One of the first things she'd taught him when he first started training with her was that he wasn’t her sidekick, that they were partners, and that meant compromise. </p><p>“Promise me you’ll stay safe.” As safe as he can while running around Gotham in a skintight leather suit, anyway.</p><p>“I’ll try.” It’s the most he can give her.</p><p>She gives him a tight grin and an equally tight hug, before spinning around on the ledge, an incredibly dangerous maneuver had they not had more than six years of practice together. He laughs, surprised, as she winks at him, falling back till she tips off the roof. The crack of her whip echoes through the alley as Stray jumps after her, a wide smile on his face as he races after her.</p><p>____</p><p> </p><p>Tim knocks his head back against the wall of the shed thing, grimacing at the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat.  </p><p>He smiles, taking another swig of the whiskey as he hears a barely-discernable thump behind him.  </p><p>"Hello, Batman."</p><p>Predictably, Batman doesn't reply. Tim just sighs, finishes off the last of the bottle - it'd been the only thing he'd taken from Drake Manor after the news of the plane crash - and sets it off to the side.</p><p>Getting up, he twirls around, grinning sardonically as Batman doesn't even twitch at the way he's teetering on the ledge above the traffic of Gotham’s nightlife. Not that there’s much, but still, forty feet is nothing to laugh at.</p><p>Tim laughs. He steps off the ledge, sauntering up to Batman in the way Selina had taught him, giving him an obvious once-over once his face is barely six inches away from the yellow bat. Bruce doesn’t even flinch. “It’s rude not to reply when someone greets you, <i>Batman</i>,” he murmurs, his voice husky, just low enough for the man’s modified cowl to pick up. </p><p>“What do you know about the break-in at the Asylum,” he growls, throwing all subtlety out the window. Tim snorts, turning back around and plopping on the ground, cracking another bottle open with one claw. </p><p>“There’s been a break-in?” he asks, sarcastic innocence dripping from his tongue as Batman comes to stand beside him. The alcohol must be getting to him, good. Because no matter how righteous, no matter how he didn’t even regret it, or feel sorry about the man in a straight jacket with a bullet in his head, the sickening feeling of blood on his hands couldn’t be washed out with just soap and water.</p><p>As Batman’s looming presence grows darker, somehow, Tim rolls his eyes, the liquid courage in his veins and the two years he’d spent touring the horrors of the world stoppering his blush. Plus the fact that the last they’d seen each other, the other had been introducing his face to the dirty brick floor of a rooftop. “I heard the Joker’s been exterminated.” he shrugs, taking another swig, spilling some on his suit with the way his grip on the bottle has been slacking. “Just a few rumors my runners have picked up from some crooked guards. Why do you ask, Batman?” he teases. “Surely you must know about your own security breach.” </p><p>The last part’s accompanied with a sly grin, one he tosses over his shoulder as the man almost imperceptibly stiffens. “There are only a few people in Gotham with the skills to stage a break-in of that level. One of those people includes you, Stray.” It's a statement and question at once, demanding and yet coaxing and Tim feels his skin prickle even as he pulls out his alibi.</p><p>“If you’re talking about me, then I must say I’m flattered. Didn’t think that you thought me so capable of breaking into Oracle’s network.” Batman’s glare turns a notch up as Tim drops that little tidbit. “And I was visiting some friends. Saying hello after being gone for so long. It was all quite emotional.” Tim offers the half-empty bottle to Batman after he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move to take it, so Tim sets it down in front just in case he changes his mind.</p><p>“You can still have your redemption, Stray.” So it was back to this.</p><p>“Oh? What made you change your mind?” Tim knows exactly what changed his mind, a pretty blond girl that cracked one-liners before delivering a mean right-hook to your face that was just similar enough to her predecessor’s to leave a bad taste in Tim’s mouth.</p><p>“I know you killed the Joker.” Tim takes the bottle back, bringing it up to his lips again, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, the Dark Knight is gone. To scour the Joker’s body for clues, examine the security footage, threaten and interrogate guards, Tim doesn’t care. He’ll never find his proof.</p><p>That’s when the one voice Tim had been banking on <i>not</i> hearing today -night- rang through his ears. </p><p>“Hey, Stray!” Tim turns around and almost gets blinded by Nightwing’s bright grin. His own drops, as he regards the brightly dressed man.</p><p>“Nightwing,” Tim replies coolly. </p><p>The man doesn’t wince, but the training Tim has put himself through for the last two years tells him everything he needs to know. And Nightwing’s good cop routine hasn’t worked on him since he texted him after Jason’s death and the man left him on fucking read. “C’mon, Stray, you don’t have to be like that.”</p><p>Dick comes up closer, movements careful, but Tim can read his intentions easily, the past few days(<i>years</i>) have taken their toll on the normally bright vigilante. He shifts slightly, so his hand hovers over his whip. Because even though the Joker might be dead, he has a lot more avenging to do, and he’s not going to let the Bats stop him.</p><p>“Don’t I, Nightwing? It’s been a few, hasn’t it,” he smiles, a tight little smirk of victory as he sees the crack of devastation on the man’s face. He doesn’t let it distract him, doesn’t let Dick’s open emotions draw his eye as the man sidles closer.</p><p>“It didn’t have to be. We looked for you, you know. B’s still beating himself up over it.” Tim’s jaw ticks, a phantom ache - .</p><p>“Good.” And Tim’s ready, for when Nightwing reaches over, placing a warm glove on his shoulder.</p><p>“Give it up, Stray. Tell us who you are, and we can <i>help</i> you.” His voice is earnest, and there’s so much Tim wants to say to that, to spit at his hero, that it’s too late to help him, that his hands are stained and he’s never going to regret it.</p><p>Giving in to the urge, Tim shrugs the hand off, missing the touch as soon as it’s gone. He tilts his chin up as he sets his gaze on the skyline, as muggy and dirty as it’d been when Tim’d snuck into Arkham two nights ago and painted the Joker’s cell with a bright robin red(the same color as Batman’s suit when he’d flown back from Ethiopia, covered in <i>Jason’s blood</i>-).</p><p>“Or?”</p><p>Tim’s not even surprised when Nightwing’s pretty face twists into a scowl behind his back, as he snarls, “Or we do this the hard way.” The man leaps for him, but Tim’s been waiting for him to make a move for the past five minutes and he dives to the side, clearing the gap to the next roof and setting off into a dead sprint, Nightwing hot on his heels.</p><p>Pulling his whip out, Tim jumps, gritting his teeth at the sound of Nightwing’s grapple. He’s got a safehouse two blocks away, and though he’s confident he’ll make it, he won’t be able to take the seasoned vigilante in a fistfight if that’s what it comes down to. Good thing Tim’s got a lot of toys.</p><p>Dropping his patented slime balls right before his feet leave a rooftop, he has to fight back a laugh at Nightwing’s yelp as he’s covered in bright pink goop. It had taken a while to figure out the expulsion ratio, but in the end, it seems like it was worth it, if Dick’s face was anything to go by.</p><p>It doesn’t stop the man though, not like Tim expected it to - come on, it was <i>Dick Grayson</i> - and he takes back up after him. There are only six more rooftops till he hits the safehouse, one equipped with disguises and an underground garage for him to safely make his getaway from. So he doesn’t feel any kind of bad about dropping a chloroform gas pellet behind him, Nightwing spinning to avoid the worst of it. The gas still reacts with the residual slime on the man’s bodysuit, and the second he takes to get his rebreather on is the second he needs.</p><p>Holding his breath, Tim clings to the underside of the roof’s eaves, ears straining as he hears Dick curse as he realizes he can’t scan him through his suit, calling in his escape to Batman before honest to god stamping his feet against the floor. Tim watches him grapple off, according to his calculations, to somewhere around Newtown, before crawling down to street level to avoid any gadgets the bat may have left. </p><p>Thankfully, it looks empty, and he darts from the shadows to the window of the safehouse, senses on high alert as he keys himself in.</p><p> He doesn’t relax, not even when the security system clicks on behind him, nor when he’s out of the catsuit and into some plain civilian clothes. He doesn’t relax even when he’s rolling out of the garage of the apartment building he’d bought out, racing through the streets of Gotham with adrenalin buzzing through his veins. He’s edging closer and closer to the nicer parts of Gotham, where he’d spent away his lonely childhood before Selina had saved him, almost subconsciously, closer to where-</p><p>He doesn’t relax until he’s letting himself into the cemetery under the soft rays of the rising sun.</p><p>Walking past his mom’s grave, Tim silently makes his way to the Wayne’s private section. Not too far from Thomas and Martha Wayne’s headstones, lays Jason Todd. He kneels in front of the grassy earth, and suddenly regrets that he hadn’t thought to bring any flowers. There’s a few dotting this area, and quite a few on Jason’s. They’re orange, poppies, Tim thinks. Jason hated poppies.</p><p>He doesn’t think he’s high enough on Batman’s criminally insane list so he doesn’t speak, doesn’t plead to his ghosts. He hadn’t when he’d snuck in here on the fifteenth either, the warm August air boiling even as he had stood there, chest bubbling with the plan he’d been perfecting for almost three years. So he sits there, getting the front of his jeans dirty as he stares at the dead boy’s grave.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oof</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. jason realizes stalking is Fun and sends tim a lil gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pulling on his hood, Jason can finally let a smile cross over his features. He'd hung the bait, and now all he has to do is wait for the cat to pounce.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mid-week update, because i feel like it(and this chapters kinda small so i didn't want to make it my weekly update)<br/>aight yall, here's a lil jasons pov, as a treat:) - also, for those wondering, tim's 20 in this, jason's 22, dick's 26, dami's 14, cass's 21, and steph's 20. bruce is more or less ambiguous, and the ages stay the same throughout the rest of this story<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim leaps off the window, leaving the mobsters in the warehouse behind him with decidedly lighter pockets. The meeting had gone well, with one of the side-groups of the Maroni gang agreeing to a twenty k figure for information on one of the more or less corrupt politicians close to the mayor. </p><p>Closing his eyes to the light wind buffeting his face, Stray looks to all the world like he's relishing in the knowledge of another contact in his pocket, but he's all too aware of the slight displacement in the night air barely two hundred feet away(hey, you didn't become the top information dealer in the northern hemisphere by being <i>easy</i>). Tim subtly taps the x-ray vision on his goggles under the guise of brushing back a strand of hair that had escaped his cowl, proving his hypothesis correct. The gray-white spot hiding on the shadows two rooftops away from him is a dead giveaway, and Tim purposefully lets a smile curl over his face. </p><p>Giving himself a running start, Tim jumps, using his whip to swing down to street-level and his hidden bike. When his detector beeps, indicating that the person had gotten closer, he straddles the vehicle and guns it to see if the other would follow.</p><p>Gotham doesn't have much traffic this late at night, but Tim still sticks to the side-streets, swerving into the back alleys that have been his own personal playground for the past nine years. The white smudge keeps just on his tail, a thirty-ish male of stocky build, judging by the shape. Nothing that Stray couldn't handle.</p><p>Head spinning with theories of who had sent him, Tim finally reaches his destination; a dead-end alley, the walls high enough that escaping without a grapple would have to be nothing short of a Nightwing-esque feat. Good thing he's trained with the next best thing.</p><p>Skidding his bike to a stop, the man sticking to the shadows doing the same, Tim gets off and turns slowly. A bright smile painted right underneath his goggles makes him look as insane as it does attractive, which hopefully unsettles the man enough that draining him of his objective won't be too hard.</p><p>"You know," a hand on his hip, giving him easier access to his whip just in case, "I'm usually the one playing hard to get in most relationships." The words echo in the dark alley, and Tim's smile grows bigger as he sees the man tense through the goggles as he realizes he’d been found out.</p><p>It drops, though, the second the man steps into the light and reveals a variable that Tim hadn't accounted for. Any and all plans of an easy interrogation conducted by Stray's persuasive abilities fly out of his head as the man hefts a heavy looking gun in his hands, finger pressing down on the trigger.</p><p>It's almost second nature, now, the way he flips in the air to avoid the shot. Manipulating his whip whilst halfway in the air is difficult, but he manages to make it fly towards the man with a loud crack, knocking the gun out of his hand. The bullet's rubber, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch when it skims his leg, and he grits his teeth even as the man yelps in surprise.</p><p>Now devoid of a weapon, the man screams as Tim immediately pounces on him, hand wrapped tightly around his throat to keep him pinned to the wall in a deceptively strong hold. "Who sent you," Tim hisses, letting a claw lightly prick the man's throat, a small drop of blood staining the tip.</p><p>The man in question stops struggling as soon as he feels the sharp blades at his throat, face paling. He whimpers as Tim presses down harder, stuttering out, "Please, I-I'm just the messenger." Well now, he already knew that, and he lets his dissatisfaction with the answer show in the form of three raised welts on the man’s cheek.</p><p>“Then, why don’t you give me your message, <i>messenger</i>?”</p><p>"P-please, don't hurt me, I was just carrying out Hood's orders, please, pl-" Tim ignores his blubbering in favor of snatching up the small box trembling in the man's raised grip. Flicking it open, Tim runs a quick cursory scan of the small comms unit nestled between what he can only assume is cat food (a crime lord with a sense of humor, who would’ve thought?), before pocketing it.</p><p>Patting the man's cheek once, Tim purses his lips at the thought of what the Red Hood could want with him(he makes it a point to skirt around making deals with the big-league Rouges, and the drug lord that decapitated Black Mask is most definitely an A-lister) before allowing his face to relax back into the Stray persona as he gets up, his voice dropping into a Cat’s more sultry purr. "Next time your employer wants to speak to me, tell him I don't work well with people that send shadows after me."</p><p>Ignoring the man's gasped thanks, Tim bends over and picks up the gun that had been thrown to the side in the middle of his take-down, letting a smirk dance across his face to hide the uneasiness he's feeling. "And I'm keeping the gun."</p><p>Before the man has the chance to take another breath, Tim's already flying towards the sky, both the gun and the com nestled in his belts' pockets. Looks like he's got some investigating to do.</p><p>______</p><p>Jason lowers his binoculars as he watches the kitty-cat slip out of the alley, his informant shakily picking himself up. That was okay, though. He'd gotten his job done, had got the thief to accept the comm, and the Red Hood would make sure he'd be duly rewarded.</p><p>Pulling on his hood, Jason can finally let a smile cross over his features. He'd hung the bait, and now all he has to do is wait for the cat to pounce. And knowing Stray, it would take everything he had for Jason to stay one step ahead. But he hadn't yet shown his hand, and a harsh chuckle forces its way from his ribs when he thinks of what little (but not so little anymore, oh no) Timmy would think when he finds out that the Red Hood knows exactly who he is beneath his tight leather skin. </p><p>Ignoring the nervous looks that his goons shoot each other behind his back, Hood orders, "I want fifteen on his detail. Reports next week." Stray would take them out. In fact, Jason’s counting on it. But it would make him nervous, jumpy, and in the perfect position to accept Gotham's newest rising crime lord's offer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im finally caught up to my writing schedule, so this is probs the last of my sporadic updates unless i manage to get out two chapters a week. Next ones like, 3k, so look forward to that yall:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. tim hangs up on his mom for his new man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Ooh, the cat's got claws, huh?"</p><p>Tim takes a breath, relaxing from his tense posture, and decides, if this is the game the crime lord wants to play, he won't object. "Most people tend to forget, Mr. Hood. I take a certain satisfaction in reminding them."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter length consistency? nope, don’t know her, sorry</p><p>i apparently have the patience of a two year old, so this is getting posted today. tbh i might just change my regular updates to saterdays since its a bit more convenient for me, but they'll probably stay firmly in the weekend range</p><p>also, just to keep yall on the up and up on some of the like minor verse changes, since jasons been back, hes not been so much focused on the batfam as he has on building his criminal empire, due to joker being dead and him not having so much animosity towards him. Hes still bummed tho wt bruce for not killing the joker himself and steph ofc cuz of the whole mantle thing and dick because, its dick.</p><p>also watch out for that heavy exposition like damn.</p><p>aight if you got through that long ass note because i don't know how to censor outside of actual writing, enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim sighs, brushing his hair back over his ear again as he looks crossly down at the tech lying innocuously on the table in front of him. The bright red bat on the side of the comms unit doesn't so much as blink.</p><p>It was a surprise, honestly, when he'd brought the chip back to one of his off the grid safehouses and divested it of trackers (and there were many, many trackers, all of which Tim had dropped off in a dumpster on the way back to his Nest), to see the etched symbol on the side of the inconspicuous device. More so that it matched up exactly with the symbols the shadows that had been tailing him had worn. Tim knows exactly what it means, who it belongs to; the Red Hood.</p><p>His appearance in Gotham hadn't exactly been subtle, with the headlines blowing up with news of a certain head filled duffle bag, and the removal of Roman Sionis as Gotham's leading drug lord in a gruesome, flashy manner. The man hadn't wasted any time in taking advantage of the massive power vacuum, quickly shooting his way up in Batman's priority profiles with a speed that sets even Tim's hair on end.</p><p>The man had mellowed down somewhat, but he was still as ruthless (and insane, as the rumors go) as he'd been for the past three years since he'd made his bloody debut. There was next to no information on him, almost as if he was a ghost that appeared out of thin air one night and blew the entirety of Gotham's drug trade off its feet. Even Tim, Stray, can't get anything but rumors to stick to the Hood.</p><p>The question running through Tim's mind right now, though, is what Hood wants with him. The cat-themed villain made it a point to stay away from most of the truly evil A-listers, and even though most of what he knows of the Red Hood (barring the more outlandish theories that involve him being a gun-toting maniac set to burn the city to the ground) is how much good he's done for the territory he's etched out in the worst part of the city, he still hesitates as he turns the piece over in his hand, gloved, just in case. A murderer and a crime lord. Stray had struck deals with much, much worse monsters, but never one so... perplexing.</p><p>Tim sighs, setting it back down again. Two days and he's barely made any progress. This guy was good. Stray is better, but Tim's barely functional without his coffee. Getting up, he walks tiredly to the kitchen portion of his Nest, which is honestly just stocked with a coffee maker and a trashcan piled high with take-out boxes, but there's no one there to scold him for it so he lets it build heedlessly. Flicking it on pretty much from muscle memory alone, he waits for it to finish drip-dripping into the cup.</p><p>He doesn’t realize how much he’s spaced out till the blaring of his phone startles him. Quickly hurrying over to his work desk with the coffee in hand, he picks it up before the ‘What’s New, Pussycat,’ ringtone that he’s pretty sure Selina put there herself can get past the fourth ‘pussycat.’</p><p>“Hey, kitten, how are you?” the woman asks, voice tinny through the speakers not disguising the tightness in her tone.</p><p>Tim frowns, setting aside his tools and brushing the com to the side so he can go through her most recent files on the large monitor. “Good. I might have a big deal coming, though, so I’ve been keeping busy.”</p><p>Selina laughs, and Tim lets it warm him, easing the tight little ball of worry in his gut that always seems to reside in him whenever his mother was on the ‘on again’ part of her relationship with the Bat. Hell, he feels it when they're off again too, but he thinks he’s allowed it what with how much she used to fuss over him when he was just a little kid with a camera practically bigger than him trying to chase his heroes.</p><p>“As long as you haven’t been getting up to any trouble, Timmy.”</p><p>Tim smiles, shaking his head as he flicks through the recent stings she’d been on, turning up nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to explain the faint thread of frustration running through her voice that she's never been able to hide from him. “Of course not, mama.”</p><p>She hums, the lilt in her voice like when she didn’t know how to bring something up.</p><p>“Have you?”</p><p>The other end of the receiver is silent for a moment before Selina answers. “Well, not me so much as your aunts.”</p><p>“Oh?” Tim asks, leaning back in the huge swivel chair that's probably his favorite part of the underground apartment, barring the coffee, of course.</p><p>“Yeah, I think it’s just around that time of year again,” Selina says, and Tim tamps down the feeling curling up inside him. Right, the day the headlines had blown up with the news of the Clown Prince of Gotham’s death. How could he forget (he could never, the manic laughter before the mind-numbing and utter <em>silence</em>? “They fought, and now Harley’s staying over.”</p><p>Tim raises a brow, switching his program over to pull up Poison Ivy and Harlequin sightings. “What happened?”</p><p>“Don’t know,” comes Selina’s reply. She sounds tired, Tim thinks, his finger pausing on the keys for a moment and trying not to let the guilt eat him. “But I’m trying to play mediator between them, and I wanted to let you know I’ll have to cancel our dinner date tomorrow night.”</p><p>Tim frowns, curling up in his seat as he picks up his coffee. Keeping up with a self-made and run information enterprise is no easy task, and with the woman’s frequent globe-trotting they weren’t able to get together as often as they'd like, though his mother makes sure to never go more than a week without calling. </p><p>“Raincheck?” he asks.</p><p>“Mhm, I’ll hold you to that, kitten.” The words make his stomach drop out. He doesn't get too many nightmares anymore, able to block out most thoughts and slip into a dreamless sleep on command, but the ones he does have are of Jason. Most of the time they were of their last moment together, the brush of the boy’s lips on his own. Then Tim would pull away and there's blood dripping over Jason's mouth and the same stickiness would be on his face and he’d watch as Jason’s pretty face twists in panic and Tim can't do anything to help him. The words stir up the memory in him, though, behind the locked doors he’d tucked his childhood crush behind to save himself from the anguish that he knows still streaks after the Bat.</p><p>Selina picks up on his silence, and he can already imagine the remorse on her face as she realizes her words. “What was that deal you were talking about?” she asks, a bit too quickly, but he gladly takes the branch.</p><p>“Yeah,” he huffs into the receiver as he picks up the comm again, tracing the pads of his gloves over the red mark. “If I don’t pick up next week please declare vengeance on the Red Hood for me, Selina.”</p><p>That’s the moment the comm chooses to vibrate. Eyes widening, Tim quickly starts hooking up the device to the monitor, enabling the tracking programs he’d built to try and get a trace on the caller. “Sorry, mama,” he says, frantic excitement bleeding over his tone. “I gotta go, talk to you later!”</p><p>Tim smashes the end call button just as the comm starts beeping, indicating a call. “Young man, don’t you dare hang up on me-” Too late. He’d make sure to text her later so she wouldn’t get worried, but for now…</p><p>Finally having gotten the program running, probably initiated a bit too hastily but Tim’ll take what he can get, he picks up the call on its third ring, letting his voice fall back into Stray’s sultry purr.</p><p>"Red Hood," he says, taking the gamble. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"</p><p>"Stray," an automated voice answers from the other end, and Tim can't help the sinking feeling of disappointment despite having a weekly call with Oracle, where he gave her the down low on what he'd picked up on the top tier Rouges and in return she turned a blind eye to his more... prolific businesses.</p><p>"That's me," he hums, smiling a bit to get himself back into the persona and turning his unease with his client into something <em>more</em>. "What can I do for you, Mr. Hood?" Playful, careless, easy. <em>Stray</em>.</p><p>The sound that comes from the comm is strange, guttural. Tim identifies it as a laugh. "Oh, I can think of plenty of things you can do for me, kitty-cat."</p><p>Tim almost cracks the comm with how hard he grips it. "Call me that one more time and I'll hang up right now. And you can say goodbye to ever striking a deal with me again."</p><p>The last time he'd used that line with a seedy banker who tried to get a bit more out of his deal, the man had immediately backed off, face white at the way Stray's claws glinted in a way no one ever seems to notice, too enraptured with the pretty smile that was as much part of the mask as the cowl. This one though, he just laughs again. "Ooh, the cat's got claws, huh?"</p><p>Tim takes a breath, relaxing from his tense posture, and decides, if this is the game the crime lord wants to play, he won't object. "Most people tend to forget, Mr. Hood. I take a certain satisfaction in reminding them."</p><p>There's a beat afterwards in which Hood processes his words. Good. Tim takes the moment to quickly go through his file on the Red Hood, as glaringly empty as the one kept in the Batcave. Even Oracle has next to no information on him, something he knows bothers her more than she’ll ever admit, nothing but the visual she’d gathered from word on the streets and the one time the crime lord had, seemingly out of the blue, attacked Spoiler during her stint as Batman’s sidekick. He's learned to step around the subject as delicately as that of the second Robin.</p><p>“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t be interested if they were clipped,” the automated voice says, finally.</p><p>Arching a brow, Tim asks, “Interested?” Hoping that the only thing Hood wants from him is information, so he can complete this transaction as fast as he can, then burn the device pressed up close to his ear. Once he pinpoints the man’s location, of course. </p><p>He's getting close, the area already narrowed down to a mile’s radius in Burnley. “Yes,” Hood replies, and again Tim wishes he could hear the man’s voice. He can detect absolutely nothing but complete monotone through the modulator. “Meet me at the tower south of Murphy tomorrow night. One o’clock.”</p><p>“Hey now, why don’t you tell me exactly what I’m walking into here first, big guy?”</p><p>Tim can almost hear Hood’s smirk through the comm. “If you don’t want to be blocked from my territories, then I suggest you make an appearance.” Tim grits his teeth, the red marks surrounding Crime Alley holding in some of his most valuable areas of runners, “And you know what they say about cats and curiosity,” the man finishes, voice ending with the same grating noise that seems to echo through Tim’s head. His eyes are fixed on the beacon, having had just enough time to narrow it down to a little spot north of the Alley, three hundred feet radius barely half a mile from where Tim now sits. Just a few more seconds, and he’d have him.</p><p>“Don’t you know, Hood? We cats have nine lives.” <em>Stalling</em>.</p><p>“Oh, I’m counting on it, Stray.” The comm beeps, and the beacon abruptly flashes off, skating a hundred miles ‘round. </p><p>“Fuck!” Dropping the comm back on the table, Tim turns the monitor off with a few more mumbled curses. The man's managed to hit almost every one of Tim’s nerves in the five minutes the call went on for, and he's already berating himself for losing control of the conversation so fast. It's a mistake that could get him killed.</p><p>Still, the man’s words stay with him, itching at the back of his mind as he cleans up the coffee he’d accidentally knocked over in his haste. Dismissing it as just reminding him of what Selina had said earlier, Tim turns his attention back to the monitors. At the very least, he can try and figure out what this Red Hood wants, because Stray, as a rule, doesn't go into any operation blind. And Tim doesn't even know this man’s <em>name</em>.</p><p>Well, Ra’s al Ghul doesn't call him Detective for nothing. It's time to get to work.</p><p>_____</p><p>It’s the night of the meeting, the sun having just set Gotham’s hazy skyline aflame. Tim, unfortunately, isn’t exactly able to appreciate it, given that he’s going through reports from an informant he’s got posted near the intersection of Murphy and the Sprang Bridge, near to the address Hood had given. </p><p>No shady behavior. No cameras(and with Oracle’s heavy surveillance on pretty much every stinking corner of the city, that was suspicious in and of itself), and nothing to indicate that anything out of the ordinary would be happening that night. Nothing to indicate that Gotham’s most dangerous crime lord and it’s most prolific free-lance thief and informant would be meeting there.</p><p>Trying to push the bad feeling out of his chest, Tim suits up, knocking back another espresso shot to keep himself awake after the past 32 hours of straight research. The suit is comfortable, familiar. It’s what’s kept him on his feet for the past five years. Pulling up the front zipper and tightening the belts hanging around his hips is simple, and the cowl and goggles feel like home as he takes the elevator to the top floor of the apartment building.</p><p>When he opens the window of the fire escape, he almost hisses as the rush of cold air hits him. Thanking whatever upper being that deigned to look after feline-themed semi-villains, Tim switches on the thermal system in his suit, almost sighing at the heat pulsing beneath the armor padding. </p><p>A grin flashes across his face as his stomach drops out from the jump, hanging in the air for the first few, gravity-defying seconds before he’s falling, whip already snapping around the lightning rod on the building in front of him, flying through the air in seconds. Once he’s bounced up from his roll, he runs, letting the exhilaration of leaping over rooftops worry away the nervousness still lingering in his bones. </p><p>He’s still got a few hours till the meet, and he spends it combing the Upper East Side, mainly messing around with some of the new locks that have proven more interesting than actually stealing anything. Tim does lift a small red and yellow bird figure, emerald green leaves twined around it, as a joke. Maybe he’ll give it to Robin, the next time the young boy decides to try and incriminate him by himself.</p><p>Tim hardly notices the time passing by, but a quick glance to the clock mounted above the sleeping couple’s bed whose room he’s trespassing has him back on the rooftops. He’s barely a mile out, and it only takes him five minutes before he’s lurking on top of a water tower and watching the roof the Red Hood had indicated. It’s inconspicuous, which is probably why the man had chosen it, nothing out of the ordinary among the grey slated high-rises that border Miller Harbor. Tim can’t see anything on it, even with his watch ticking ever closer to one.</p><p>But then, just as soon as his wrist buzzes slightly, signifying the time, Tim sees the door leading up to the roof crack open. Hand on his whip, he inches closer to the edge of the tower, switching on the Detective Mode on his goggles to catalog the various weapons the man has on him. And there are a lot. Even without the goggles, Tim can count at least five visible guns, two or three knives, and he’ll bet on the belt hanging around the man’s waist to include more than one explosive. Hell, he's fairly sure the damn helmet Hood wore could be weaponized if it comes down to it. </p><p>But that’s not what draws his eye, the various weapons inconsequential next to the living, breathing weapon they were holstered on. It’s the way he walks, with an assurance in his steps as if Stray hasn’t had plenty of opportunities to rig the building to blow in the two days he’d given him. Tim would never pull it, but it makes him feel safer, to have that in his pocket, to know there are at least three mercenaries trained on the roof, all on <em>his</em> payroll. He doesn't doubt that the other does, too.</p><p>Tim’s blood turns to ice when the Red Hood turns in his direction, raising his head till the creepy cut out eyes are trained right on where he’s hiding. He shouldn’t have been able to thermal-detect him with the specially enforced clothing Stray wears, and Tim puts that into the small pile of things he knows about him. Right now, though…</p><p>With his cover blown, Tim can’t scope out the scene anymore, not without offending Hood. And it’s always a bad idea to offend a client as high-level as him. So, with a final puff of air, Tim swings down onto the roof, gait light and easy, smirk curling around his face as he drops back into familiar territory. </p><p>“My, my, Hood,” Tim taunts, sauntering up to the man that, infuriatingly, towers a head above him. “All this for little old me?”</p><p>Hood doesn’t respond as Tim stops till there’s only a few feet separating them. He tilts his head to the side, and Tim has to fight the instinctive urge to swallow as the unsettling eyes bore into him. </p><p>“Stray,” Hood says, modulator not disguising the confidence that oozes through his every word as he eyes the man up and down. “I think it’s about time we talked.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ooh, cliffhangers, cliffhangers. id apologize, but its just so much fun<br/>(and btw, if you ever see smth like super fucked up in any of these chapters, like an editing error or just plain shitty grammar, pls do feel free to tell me! - and to everyone who leaves amazing comments on these, i just!!thank you! so much, it means the world and i forgot where i was going with this )<br/>next chapter's gonna have the convo so !!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. hood is a big ol meanie, and tim quietly seethes whilst tripping the line of scared and aroused</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hood shifts his stance, barely but enough for the gun holstered on his thigh to be shadowed by the edge of his jacket. "Oh no," and even through the voice modulator, Tim can make out the deepness of his tone. "I want to make you an offer, Stray."</p><p>Tim's head snaps up from where he was idly tracing the internal airway systems of the industrial building across from them, a dangerous show of blatant emotion as he stares the blank red hood straight on. "An offer?"</p><p>"Yes," Hood replies, arms spreading out at his sides and if Tim could see his face he’s sure the man would be grinning. "As my second-in-command."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok, before anyone reads this, just like a disclaimer; I'm sorry about how much i describe hood's hands, but its like, spectacularly hard to write a characters emotions when you cant see their face??so that might be a bit weird<br/>and as a note, this chapter fought with me, a lot. I'm not like, totally happy with it? but i mean it turned out pretty alright ig, hope yall like it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim swallows. Pushing past the sudden dryness in his throat, he lies, “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to it. Though I must admit, our earlier intercourse didn’t make me think you much of a conversationalist, Hood.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll find I’m full of surprises, kitty,” the man drawls, looking to all the world as casual as if he didn’t have enough firepower on him right now to blow City Hall off its feet.</p><p>“Hn. I thought I told you not to call me that, <i>Hood</i>,” he replies, suppressing his irritation of the mystery and the splash traffic lights on his periphery that popped up at the nickname, though he lets his claws protract in the slightest.</p><p>Hood doesn’t take the bait, just takes another step forward, closing the not-distance between them. It makes Tim’s skin prickle, and so when Hood tips his head forward in the slightest, saying sardonically, “My apologies, Stray. Old habits die hard, it seems,” he takes the opportunity to slip around his front.</p><p>To his credit, the man doesn’t move, not even the infamous hood with the most feared blackmailer in the city at his back. Tim’s not paying much attention to the hood at the moment, too occupied with the absolute size of the man in front of him; hell, Tim’d be willing to bet that Hood could even take Batman on in that aspect.</p><p>
To cover for his musings, he whistles, a sound he’d practiced for hours in the mirror by himself till the catcall tripped off his tongue perfectly. “Oh, don’t you worry about it, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes lifting up from the god-like thighs to the red hood, which he realizes has been focused on him for the past few seconds. Instead of letting a flush color his cheeks, he takes it in stride. “<i>You</i> can call me anything else you’d like.”</p><p>When he catches the slight twitch of Hood’s fingers, he grins, throwing himself into a slow back handspring, flexing as he prolongs his handstand. Putting a little extra strength into his push back up, he lands with the toe of his boots just on the lip of the building, perfectly balanced in a crouch. Throwing a cheeky smile Hood’s way, who he notices hasn’t moved an inch, he tilts his head ever so slightly to the right to portray a look of innocent curiosity, as he asks, “Now that we’ve established that, why don’t you tell me why I’m out on a cold rooftop in September, without any preview as to why? Because as far as first dates go, I don’t think you’re doing all that well, no offense.”</p><p>“I’ve heard of you, Stray,” Hood intones, and Tim internally snickers at how ominous it sounds as he stands, letting his posture remain easy and relaxed(perfect for abrupt exits).</p><p>“Nothing too scandalous, I hope.”</p><p>Hood doesn’t take the bait. “Word on the street is, you’re the go-to for information, be it blackmail or bribery. A master hacker, and the best thief in the country, aside from the mama cat herself, of course. Your name’s been thrown around almost every single reputable, and non-reputable organization in the state.”</p><p>Damn, Tim did always hate dealing with rival conflicts. It came with the trade, especially if you’re the main informant for both sides of a turf war, and they were always… messy. He couldn’t remember dealing anything to any of Hood’s contenders, though, so he frowns.</p><p>"I hope I haven't done anything to draw the ire of Gotham's up and coming anti-hero."</p><p>Hood shifts his stance, barely but enough for the gun holstered on his thigh to be shadowed by the edge of his jacket. "Oh no," and even through the voice modulator, Tim can make out the deepness of his tone. "I want to make you an offer, Stray."</p><p>Tim's head snaps up from where he was idly tracing the internal airway systems of the industrial building across from them, a dangerous show of blatant emotion as he stares the blank red hood straight on. "An offer?"</p><p>"Yes," Hood replies, arms spreading out at his sides and if Tim could see his face he’s sure the man would be grinning. "As my second-in-command."</p><p>Tim stills. Stops. Weighs his options. "And what would it entail, being your second? If I agree, of course," he asks, trying to cover up the tentativeness in his words by hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, tipping back till he's casually rocking on the edge of the ledge, letting the rush of cold air propping him up comfort him. Because Tim would be a fool to accept this man's offer, this man whose identity Barbara Gordon can't figure out, this man whose kill count can't be confirmed by anyone but ghosts. </p><p>More importantly, Stray can't afford to take this hit to his reputation, and putting himself under someone would mean sacrificing many of the freelance connections and networks he's worked hard to expand over his years. There's also the tentative truce he's more or less struck with the Bats- well, less of a truce than both Batman and Nightwing avoiding him because of guilt complexes bigger than the whole of fucking New Jersey. The newest Robin didn't see much justice in that, and would make an attempt to capture him at least once a month. Tim thinks it's rather cute. But the one that worries him the most is the careful friendship he's eked out with Stephanie, the newest Batgirl, knowing that any news of the Hood always makes the blonde's lip curl, not without reason if Tim's going by the footage he managed to swipe from the Titans Tower. </p><p>Of course, Tim doesn't think it would be wise to refuse either. Not if he wants his head to end up in a duffle bag. </p><p>Hood tips his head up, considering him. "If you agree..." the man starts, hands brushing his holsters before he strides over purposefully to where Tim is balancing.</p><p>He immediately wishes he hadn't backed up so far on the ledge, because when Hood comes close enough that Tim's breath fogs up the red helmet, he can't move any further back. He can't move any further back when Hood reaches a hand up, nor when the gloved fingers brush along his cheek. "Yes?" he asks, congratulating himself on not letting his voice quaver as two of them press into the pulse point beneath his jaw.</p><p>"If you agree," Hood repeats. "Then you get access to every resource my empire has to offer. If you <i>agree</i>," and Tim holds his breath as the man crowds him, his hand gripping the front of his suit, the other under his jaw, being the only two things keeping him on the roof. “Then we’ll take over the whole of this stinking city together.” Tim imagines that his voice touches a bit dreamy when he says, “We could do it, you and I. We could rule Gotham, make it <i>better</i>.”</p><p>Tim knows they can. From everything he’s heard about the Red Hood, Tim<i> knows </i>they can. </p><p>There’s just the question of whether or not he <i>should</i>.</p><p>He’s been slipping, letting Hood boss him around as if he’s nothing more than a low-level perp trying to make some extra side cash. There’s something about him that’s itching at the back of Tim’s brain, but like hell does that mean he’s going to bend to the whims of every other up and coming crime lord that comes knocking at his door. He hasn’t gotten this far, hasn’t become <i>Stray</i>, without knowing every single exploitable angle of a deal. </p><p>Tipping his head back so that the hold Hood has on his face breaks, he breathes, “And if I refuse? If you’ve done even a basic check on me, you know that I don’t kill, not even for,” he looks down, eyeing him up in a very obvious way, “the Red Hood.”</p><p>Hood lets him go, backing up a few steps, leaving Tim to cling to the gravity-defying balance he’d learned in a back alley acrobat act in Spain that laundered coke on the side. The sardonic amusement is heavy in his tone when he asks, “You don’t? I recall a small incident, a few years back, that says differently.”</p><p>Tim’s mouth dries. “I don’-”</p><p>“No?” And this time Hood’s gaze is all the more incriminating as he stands completely stock still, drawing Tim’s eye to the musculature hidden behind his leather jacket. “If the clown bastard were still alive I think he’d say differently.”</p><p>Tipping his chin up, Tim does what he does best: <i>lie</i>. Hey, if he can get by three years without so much as a shred of evidence from the bats, then this Red Hood was certainly not going to be able to pin him. “Now, Hood,” he murmurs, letting his voice drift down to the husk that Selina would use right before leaning in and snatching her jewels from right under the Bat’s nose. “I know you haven’t made it this far into Gotham’s crime games without knowing you can’t throw words around with no proof.”</p><p>To his dismay, Hood just throws back his head and <i>laughs</i>. It’s then Tim realizes that he fucking hates it, the grating, automated noise, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Don’t worry, kitty, I won’t tell. I just have one question…”</p><p>Tim tips his head to the side questioningly, not giving anything away.</p><p>“Why’d you do it?” </p><p>A sharp image of Jason, laughing brightly on the rooftop across from him as they race each other to Tim’s favorite ice-cream cart, Robin grin stretched so wide he can't imagine how it doesn't  <i>hurt</i>- flashes across his mind. The shining gleam of the closed casket being lowered into the ground as envisioned from his hiding spot on the tree next to the burial grounds. Tim grits his teeth, before loosening himself from the hold of the memories. “Sorry, Hood. But I don’t just go tossing around secrets to every pretty boy that asks for them.”</p><p>“And if I paid you?” he asks, hand drifting up to the side of his helmet before abruptly dropping.</p><p>Tim’s cutting edge of a smile turns a shade more wistful. “I only sell other people’s secrets, darling.”</p><p>“Just not your own.”</p><p>“Now you’re getting it.”</p><p>“Back to the point at hand,” Hood says, straightening up a bit from where he’d relaxed during their… banter, if you could call it that. His voice is dangerously flat, hips shifting so the muted light from a billboard catches the gleam of the revolvers holstered on his belt, when he asks, “Are you refusing my offer, Stray?”</p><p>Tim’s heartbeat upticks in the slightest. He doesn’t have the same anti-gun fetish most of the Bats harbor, but they’re dangerous, efficient weapons. Especially on someone who has even half of the skill set the rumors seem to propose.</p><p>But the question does make him pause. <i>Is</i> he refusing the offer? Because the more that Tim thinks about it, logically, without letting his opinions of the man with the same name as the one he put a bullet through get in the way of his judgement, the better and better it seems to be. By himself, Stray is already a formidable underground force, having planted seeds in every territory in Gotham and watched them sprout and bloom. Red Hood had only been here for a decidedly shorter period of time, and had already amassed power, etching out his own territory within a few months of being in the city. If Tim helps him, then they could, as the man had said, <i>rule</i> Gotham.</p><p>But Tim’s always liked… pushing his luck. “And if I refuse?” </p><p>Hood’s stance shifts back into his overconfident swagger, leaving a bad taste in the back of Tim’s mouth as he says, “You won’t.”</p><p>“Oh?” he asks, putting one boot in front of the other as he walks closer to the crime lord, letting the derision seep into his voice. “Enlighten me, Hood; why ever not?”</p><p>The man uses their proximity to grab Tim’s armored wrist, pulling him closer than warranted. With a single arched brow, Tim looks down at his very easily breakable hold, and then back up at Hood. </p><p>“Because,” Hood rasps. “Because there’s nothing in the world that you won’t trade away for the right price, Stray. Nothing is too sacred for the eyes and ears of your network, everything but…”</p><p>“But?” he asks, hating how it comes out almost like a whisper. </p><p>“Everything but,” the man repeats, the hold tightening on his arm till it almost hurts through the leather and Kevlar. “Your identity.”</p><p>Tim’s heart stops. Trying to yank his hand out of the other’s grip is futile, trying to think of any and all contingencies he has for this, but the truth is, he has none. Only three people in the world knew it, four if his suspicions on Oracle are correct, and one’s his mother, the other he has enough sway on to keep him in line, and the last is dead. There was never any <i>reason</i> to plan for this. “Let- let me-”</p><p>Showcasing his strength, Hood drags him close, close enough that he can feel the drag of the man’s jacket on the patch of skin showing at his neck. “Do you accept my offer,” and Tim swears his heart stops beating- “Timothy Jackson Drake?”</p><p>It’s easy enough to react on instinct, extending his claws to dig into the man’s jacket- not enough to hurt him, not through the heavy armor he manages to carry around like it weighs hardly five pounds than the close thirty Tim knows it is, but enough to startle him that Tim's able to do a back handspring out of his hold, boots firmly planted on the bright red bat on his chest to throw him back as well.</p><p>Hood regains his footing quickly, even as Tim makes sure to put as much distance between them as possible whilst still holding a conversation (if you could call what they were doing conversation). His voice drifts on the winter breeze as he calls out, “Are you blackmailing me, Hood?”</p><p>“Let’s just call it an incentive,” Hood replies. Bullshit. But the first thing to do when you’re caught off guard is to make sure it <i>never</i> happens again- Tim needs more information, needs to figure out how Hood knows. Needs to make sure no one else does. His entire life is in jeopardy right now, and Tim knows that winning a game of chess isn’t just about moving pieces; he needs to think, to regroup. </p><p>But his identity being on the line… he can’t leave things up to chance. Hood is unpredictable, it’s practically written into his MO. Tim Drake is on the line, his <i>mom’s</i> identity is on the line. Hood is threatening that, threatening <i>them,</i> and as much as it angers him, as much as Tim would absolutely love to spit in the man’s face, watch with a smug smirk as his entire empire crumbles to its foundations, he’s completely out of his depth here.</p><p>Still, he can be patient. He can go along with him right now, pick his mind apart on the sly, and when the right time presents itself- well. Cats don’t like to be ordered around, and Tim is no different. “Well,” he replies, all of this crossing across his mind in the spare few seconds he doesn’t have. “With an offer like that, how could one refuse?”</p><p>Hood doesn’t show any surprise at Stray’s abrupt descent back into the flirty persona, which makes Tim internally huff- there’s got to be <i>something</i> that trips this guy up! Just tips his head forward, hand going to the grapple at his thigh (which momentarily distracts Tim, because why did all the cute guys have to be assholes?). “Pleasure doing business with you, Stray.”</p><p>“Wish I could say the same, Hood.”</p><p>Hood doesn’t reply to that, just aims his grapple gun. And Tim hates that he has to say this, hundred percent sure that Hood purposefully didn’t tell him so he has to call out, “Wait! You never told me how I’m supposed to contact you.”</p><p>Turning back to him, Hood shoots his grapple, hook landing with a precision Tim’s not sure Batman could replicate. “Oh don’t worry about that, kitty, I’ll be the one to contact you- You still have my comm, don’t you?”</p><p>Yes, yes he does, no matter how much he wanted to throw the damned thing into the Kane Sound after the infuriating call the other had given him, he still has it, lying innocuously on the work table in his secure Nest. Tim nods. </p><p>He can almost see the grin on Hood’s face through the helmet as the heels of his heavy boots edge the ledge. “Keep your ear to it- I’ll come knocking soon enough. Partner.” With that final word, a word that makes Tim want to grind his teeth together hard enough that his dentist puts a hit out for him, Hood tips back, free hand coming up to give a jaunty salute before he’s falling. A moment later, he’s disappeared over the jutting rooftops and Tim can take his first free breath of thirty minutes.</p><p>Looking down at the soft chime of his wrist-computer, Tim lets a smile cross over his features borne of relief. The multiple trackers he’s placed on Hood (and the man had fallen for it, given him plenty of opportunity, as if he lets anyone just manhandle him without a faint word of protest or a swipe of the extra claws that doubled as throwing knives that had been an eighteenth birthday present from Ra’s) had been activated. </p><p>It wasn’t designed to get him much, Tim hadn’t been prepared for the absolute onslaught of everything that is the Red Hood, but it would get him a surface level infiltration of Hood’s system, enough to at least make all his safehouses play Tom Jones on repeat for a few days (he’s a cat, he’s allowed to be petty).</p><p>Pulling out his whip, Tim barely makes it a rooftop before his wrist chimes again, and hoping for another update on the Red Hood, he quickly stops and pulls it up. Which is a mistake, given by how he almost chokes when he sees the holographic green with a very, very upset message under it.<br/>
Oracle. He is <i>so</i> screwed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so i know i mentioned this in my last chapter too but yall,,, try and listen to what's new pussycat on loop, i tried doing it after that john mulaney clip and i almost died like seven minutes in</p><p>aight, i just wanna throw this out there, uh i got a lot of stuff coming up in the next two weeks or so, and with school and all starting up, I'm not terribly sure how much time I'll be able to spend on this fic- ill try to keep it once a week, but i might have to like, skip a week at some point, so :(. anyhow, if you liked it, and want more, sometimes i post like, a few sentences of this wip just to get feedback on my tumblr, which is linked in my profile if u wanna check it out. have a good day, everyone!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. tim talks with his moms and gets the hots for a dude that is Most Definitely Not Jason</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The automated voice comes again, sardonic and amused and serious all at once, and Tim has to wonder how exactly she manages that through a modulator. “It’s <i>dangerous</i> for you to be seen with him. People may start getting the wrong idea.”</p><p>“People?” Tim asks lightly, as if the intent of her words haven’t been itching at the back of his mind for the whole hour he’d spent getting back, cautious of any tails Hood might have put on him. If there was one person who could take him down, it would have been Oracle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were threatening me, <i>Babs</i>.” There is, of course, the matter of her identity hanging over the line, too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>catch me trying to shove a coffee shop au arc into this stray au twenty five k in<br/>Enjoy:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hood’s dangerous.”</p><p>Tim’s hands still at the words, the automation making him wince slightly, before he continues tugging the zipper of his suit down. He doesn’t take long in getting dressed, and by the time he gets to the main computer in the middle of his Nest, the green symbol is there to greet him.</p><p>With a sigh, Tim begins typing, trying to figure out how she got in (<i>again</i>). Immediately, his system shuts down, before crackling to life again a moment later. So she’s feeling vindictive. Fair enough, he <i>had</i> just broken the long lasting deal that outlined that he would inform her before doing anything to potentially put him on Batman’s A-list, in return for her turning a somewhat blind eye to his more… criminal ventures.</p><p>Still, the words prick at something prideful inside him, and he mumbles underneath his breath as he begins typing again, more careful this time, “I can handle Hood.” After all, Hood was only on day three of Tim’s Tom Jones playlist, and had already switched safe houses four times, if what his trackers tell him is correct.</p><p>The automated voice comes again, sardonic and amused and serious all at once, and Tim has to wonder how exactly she manages that through a modulator. “It’s <i>dangerous</i> for you to be seen with him. People may start getting the wrong idea.”</p><p>“People?” Tim asks lightly, as if the intent of her words haven’t been itching at the back of his mind for the whole hour he’d spent getting back, cautious of any tails Hood might have put on him. If there was one person who could take him down, it would have been Oracle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were threatening me, <i>Babs</i>.” There is, of course, the matter of her identity hanging over the line, too.</p><p>It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Tim knew it, and they’d backed each other into a corner before finally striking up a somewhat stable truce. He has no doubt that she could ruin him if she wanted to, though, and he won’t be able to reap the benefits of the bats’ identities if he doesn’t have his network to control the flow of rumors. So to lighten the mood a little, he throws in a, “And I think my quota for death threats has already been filled for the day.”</p><p>It gets a laugh out of her, at least, nothing like Hood’s. It’s not gravelly, for one, just a fast staticky noise, the computerized voice free from any lilt that might jeopardize her identity. “Oh, it’s not me you have to worry about, <i>Timmy</i>,” she shoots back, and blood stains his teeth with how hard he bites his cheek at the name drop, the monotone reminding him too much of the situation he’d got himself stuck in a scant few hours ago.</p><p>“Oh?” he asks, once the metallic taste is relatively gone from his mouth and he can continue trying to figure out how she’s wormed into his system this time.</p><p>Barbara hums. “I’m thinking of someone else with a bat on their chest and a couple more sticks up their ass. I can’t keep them off you forever, you know, especially if you’re putting yourself into the spotlight like this.”</p><p>“I’m not exactly smack happy about it myself, trust me,” he grumbles. Hell, if this Hood figure hadn’t thrown a wrench in his plans, he would have gotten on just fine, sliding under the radar long enough till he’d gotten all the city’s strings wrapped nice and neatly around his fingers. Pushing aside the little voice inside him that says that he could have all that in half the time if he stands next to the Red Hood, Tim leans back in his chair, puzzling over the complicated encryption Babs had set to keep him off her.</p><p>“Then why’d you agree?” she asks as he begins to pick it apart.</p><p>“He…” His throat clicks and he curses himself. The first thing his mother taught him before entering high society was never, ever, show weakness.Tim doesn’t exactly frequent the galas and fundraisers of his past life anymore, not unless he’s in a rut and needs some easy pickings to boost his confidence, but the same rules applied to the Gotham underground, though he’s pretty sure she probably hadn’t intended for him to use her training of etiquette to broker deals with drug lords. Shaking off his hesitance to say the words in the fear of making them real, he repeats, “He’s blackmailing me.”</p><p>Barbara’s silence on the other end is telling. “Your identity,” she guesses.</p><p>“Yeah,” he breathes, the weight on his chest practically doubling at admitting it out loud. He still can’t quite process it, the secret he’s held for nine years coming crumbling down around him by an unpredictable murderer.</p><p>“How does he know?” And this time, Babs’ voice isn’t amused, it’s stone cold and hard. Of course, she’d be thinking ahead for her own brood, because if this man was able to figure out Timothy Jackson Drake’s identity, a pretty much non-existent persona that had faded into the background of the city after the death of his parents and the breaking up of their company, then it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume he’d be able to figure out the bats’, who all have much more prominent ties to the city.</p><p>Frustrated, Tim drags a hand through his hair, the other typing at double the speed to decode yet another failsafe. Not that he doesn’t like talking to Oracle, but she has an uncanny ability to upend his operations from the scant inches of information he’d be hard pressed to give her, a detective in her own right, and this is something that he’d like to figure out for himself, first. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”</p><p>He can practically hear her doubt through the silence of the speakers.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Tim taps his fingers against the edge of the desk that his monitor’s set up on. The next words come out softly. “I know he’s dangerous, but… he made a lot of sense.”</p><p>The soft typing noises on the other end stop. “<i>Tim</i>.”</p><p>“Don’t give me that, you haven’t exactly been opposing his ascent, Babs,” he shoots back to the admonishment in her tone, for some reason fixed on defending his decision even though he’d been doubting it himself not a moment ago.</p><p>Her sigh is audible through the speaker. “Just…” There’s a small <i>click</i> and when she speaks again, the modulator is off, and it’s her voice, low and steady, that comes through. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to turn on the news and see you dead, Timmy.”</p><p>The brushing reminder of Robin, of <i>Jason</i>, hurts, and trips him up enough that the next lie that rolls off his tongue isn’t as smooth as he’d like it to be, and he knows she catches it. “I always am.”</p><p>“Hm. You better know what you’re doing, Stray.” And just like that, the masks are back on, and it’s almost like she’s given him permission to slip back into the feline’s persona. Tim breathes a sigh of relief, because while <i>he</i> can be shaken up by mentions of plane crashes and clowns, <i>Stray</i> takes everything life throws at him with a smile and a wink.</p><p>“You know I do, O.”</p><p>The next few seconds are quiet, and Tim lets himself relax. The muted sound of typing starts up again on the other side and he mirrors it, working on figuring out the puzzle she’s set for him, a game they both enjoy when there have been too many close calls and they need something with a high challenge and low risk for once. He’s close, just a few more sequences from locking her out when she speaks up-</p><p>“Hey, don’t GU’s enrollments open up soo-” The speakers give a loud, shrill <i>beep</i> before shutting down as he finally manages to get her out (for now).<br/>
Glancing down at the trash can underneath his desk where the newest application file Selina’s sent him this week resides, he winces internally, before pushing Barbara’s words to the back of his mind. As if he needs to be reminded.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>His finger hovers over the button on his phone, buried deep inside his coat pocket as Tim steps out onto the cold sidewalk. The November wind whips at his face, and since he can’t exactly wear his insulated suit out in broad daylight (not that there's much daylight; it <i>is</i> Gotham after all), he’s bundled up in three layers of jackets and warm boots that click satisfyingly on the concrete slabs as he begins walking, a wonky woolen hat that had been a Christmas gift from Harley tucked around his ears to waylay the fever he'd become much more prone to after his splenectomy.</p><p>The cold nipping at his face can’t distract him from the messages lying unanswered on his phone, though, and he finally presses ‘call’.</p><p>She picks up on the fourth ring.</p><p>“Hey, Selina,” he says, tossing a coy smile to a passing woman who blushes and almost drops her dog’s leash. “Ho-”</p><p>“Don’t you ‘Hey, Selina’ me, mister,” she replies, voice angrier than that time Pam had tried to immunize him to plant-based poisons and accidentally put him in a coma that had taken two weeks to wear off as she cuts him off. He winces as her voice noticeably climbs higher in pitch. “The Red Hood, Tim. The <i>Red Hood</i>. What were you thinking?”</p><p>Tim sighs, pushing a strand of hair back with gloved fingers and watching his breath turn white as he defends, “I was thinking that I wasn’t going to let some crime lord shoulder in and destroy your identity.” After making sure there's no one in earshot, of course. One could never be too careful, especially after the shakedown Hood had given him.</p><p>“He-” A scuffling sound cuts her off, a few raised voices before the low thud of a door closing. “He knows my ID?” she asks, worry seeped into her voice, and Tim hates Hood for putting it there.</p><p>“He knows mine,” he confesses, turning the corner onto Otisburg, destination still half a mile away. “And if he figured out who Tim Drake is,”</p><p>“Then Selina Kyle won’t be too much of a stretch,” she finishes for him, and he nods at a passing couple, the smirk not coming as easy this time, as he tries to swallow the possibility.</p><p>“Exactly. And while I could probably go underground, your reputation can’t take the hit.”</p><p>“Tim, your safety is my first priority,” she says immediately, and it warms him as much as it frustrates. “I can make a new persona if it means you’re okay.”</p><p>It’s still hard, getting used to that unconditional support. It’s been years, almost a decade now, since he left Drake Manor for the last time, but it still surprises him that no matter how busy her schedule, she’ll always take out the time for him if he needs her to, brushing off every single attempt at repayment with a laugh. The words close up his throat for a moment, and he tries to remember what the next line in his script is when-</p><p>“But what about yours?”</p><p>Tim frowns. “Huh?” His eyes finally land on his destination, and he walks up to the glass door, politely holding it open for a man who seems to be almost a head taller than him. Whatever Selina says next is forgotten in lieu of getting caught in the stranger’s blue-green eyes. The man gives him a tight smile, which of course draws Tim’s eyes to his lips and <i>that</i> was most definitely a bad idea-</p><p>“Your identity, Tim,” she repeats, slightly admonishing. “I don’t want you to have to cut your ties to your life when you’ve barely even lived it.”</p><p>All thoughts of strangers with pretty eyes and obviously dyed hair fly straight out of his mind at the implications of her words. “Selina…”</p><p>“Look, Tim, I know you said you wanted to wait a while before getting into academics again, but it’s been almost four years now.”</p><p>He internally groans as he walks up to stand in the queue for the register, a few sultry looks earning him a place three behind the order desk. Tim had been dreading this conversation ever since admissions opened. “I just, I don’t know if going right now would be a good idea, Selina. You know I’ve got lots of stuff going on right now-”</p><p>She cuts him off, probably tired of having to hear the same excuses again and again, “Stuff that includes either you going out, solo, in a leather catsuit for non-fun purposes, or staying in your Nest and working for seventy-two hours straight or till you pass out.”</p><p>He winces at her words, would usually argue back, but, well. She’s <i>right</i>. “You’re twenty years old, Timmy, you should have a life outside of the mask, too. Go to school, make friends, fall in love.” They both pretend that she hadn’t hesitated on the last one as she finishes, “Just think about it, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” he sighs as he moves up another place, the cafe’s low music switching to a more upbeat soundtrack. She’d had the same conversation with him when he was seventeen; his attendance after his dad’s death had already been shaky, and after the Joker’s practically non-existent. And then, when the whole domino tower toppled and the Dark Knight was rumored to have been killed- and it was easy enough to figure out, anyone who had watched the Bats for as long as Tim had would know that the easy smile crossing Batman’s face was <i>not</i> Bruce Wayne’s- Robin, or Spoiler, had shown him a picture of Mordecai Wayne.</p><p>The anger of seeing yet <i>another</i> boy in Jason's colors, combined with the tears in Steph's eyes, who he'd become semi-friends with after she'd socked him in the face with a brick the last time he'd bitterly compared her to her predecessor — paired with the tattered remains of an 'R' on her chest — was enough for him to accept the girl's suspicions. Besides, he did love a good mystery. And it hadn't taken long, not with the  Demon's Head practically bending to his every whim at the slightest flutter of his lashes (and other things, many other things, things that keep the so-called conscious-devoid thief up at night with something akin to<i> regret</i>), to compile enough evidence and send it off to the newly titled Batgirl along with a request of anonymity.</p><p>After that, he just hadn’t shown up again, and the next year his name was off the register. He’d thought about going on, wondered how his friends were doing, Ives, Callie, but there was always something more important on the list. So he’d tested for his GED and gotten it all done and over with and told Selina that he was taking a break before starting up university.</p><p>Recently though, it had just been moving further and further down his priorities. Maybe once this whole business with Hood came to whatever inevitable fiery conclusion it may, he’d think about it. For now though…</p><p>Giving a quick goodbye to his mother and clicking off his phone, Tim turns to the register. “Hello, could I get a quintuple espresso, please,” he says, lips quirking at the cashier’s deer in headlights expression.</p><p>“I- I’ll be right with you,” the boy stammers out, and Tim can’t help the little laugh that rises up at that. He wonders if this was how Nightwing felt in those first few years when he could barely even talk to the man without stumbling over himself.</p><p>“Thanks, it’s Jack, by the way,” he remembers to add, before pulling out a few notes and holding them out, the amount pretty much memorized with the number of times he’d come here. This one was new, though. When the boy reaches out to take it, Tim tightens his grip a little, and when he glances up, he murmurs, “But you can call me Jackie.”</p><p>The boy’s face immediately flushes. He opens his mouth to presumably say something as Tim lets go of the money, but he’s cut off by the entrance of a tall woman from the backroom.</p><p>“Jackie, stop messing with the new kid,” she scolds, and Tim smiles at her impishly as she crosses her arms in a farcical angry pose.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Annie,” he lies, grin on his face easily giving him away as she shoos him off.</p><p>“C’mon, I got customers waiting, and I’m gonna need my boy able to speak for the rest of his shift,” the woman says, shaking her head at him with light amusement. “Go sit down and do whatever it is ya do on that computer of yours, I’ll have your drink of death to you in a bit.” </p><p>Nodding his thanks, and dropping a few tens into the tip jar, Tim makes his way through the semi-populated cafe. The place isn't too far off from the Botanical Gardens, but being tucked into a quiet little street behind the Knight’s Stadium it didn’t garner much traffic, making it one of Tim’s favorite places to work (the supply of coffee notwithstanding).</p><p>It was also, quite fortunately, located right in front of one of the Red Hood’s more down-low fronts, in the disguise of a shipping warehouse just across the main street. A few cars went back and forth, but with the hour being just after the lunch rush, Tim has a pretty much solid view of the coming and goings of the building.</p><p>Taking a seat at a side-booth with a large window pressed up against its plastic table that faces the direction of the warehouse, Tim pulls out his laptop from the messenger bag hanging down his side as he begins unwrapping himself from his layers. It takes a few moments, but soon enough, he’s got his laptop booted up and running through profiles of all of Hood’s lackeys who he knows to be working on The Hill.</p><p>Face a neutral mask, Tim clicks on one of them, the file opening up to display the intricate details surrounding one Andrea Moline. A woman who’s supposed to currently be in jail, arrested by Nightwing and put behind bars for being unable to pay off her bail for petty theft. A woman who he can make out lugging a large container through the double doors of the warehouse across the street. Flagging her, Tim mentally adds her to the list of Why Hood is a Very Confusing Crimelord. The man could have easily picked up another grunt, especially for the low-level work she did, instead of breaking her out.</p><p>Clicking out, Tim spends the next few minutes getting himself through the booby-trapped backdoor in the camera system of the building; all the ones on the lower floor are disabled, but the sound receptors still pick up most of it. Steadily inputting more information from the dialogue feed his system translates and filters, he’s not too focused on his work to not be able to switch folders immediately at the sound of tapping footsteps, an essay about the molecular analysis of the newest fear toxin filling his screen, the whole thing written in Russian because he’d needed to brush up on some of his language skills.</p><p>Looking up, he almost moans at the sight of the venti cup, the delicious smell of liquidized caffeine filling his senses. It's been a good eight hours since he’s gotten any, the machine at his Nest having ‘broken down from overuse’, or so said the mechanic Tim had frantically called at seven am in the morning. “Thank you, so so so much, Annie, you absolute godsend,” he murmurs, the next few words of praise garbled as he immediately grabs the cup she sets down and begins downing it.</p><p>“Yer sweet talkin’ ain’t gonna get you anywhere with me, Jackie, and you know it,” is her response. “’though for everyone else…”</p><p>Tim sets the cup down when she says that, frowning up at her as she sets a muffin in front of him, more of a cupcake really, he thinks, from the bright dollops of red, black and yellow, white frosting on the top.</p><p>Annie must see his confused stare, because she explains, “They’re poppies an’ daisies. Special order, cost your admirer a pretty penny too.”</p><p>“…the new kid?” he cautiously guesses, still frowning at the cupcake. There's something about it that's itching at the back of his mind…</p><p>She snorts, hefting the coffee tray under her arm. “Nah, Eri’s too shy ta try an’ make a move. Kid’s much too innocent for you, anyway.” He only grins back at the pointed look she gives him, and she shakes her head, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “It’s Mr. Tall Dark an’ Handsome over there, asked me what yer favorite flavor was too.”</p><p>Following her thumb, Tim’s eyes hit the man who had opened the door for him earlier, the man who's currently staring straight at him with an easy smirk on his face. Immediately, he snaps back to Annie’s unimpressed gaze. “Did he say anything else?”</p><p>“Just asked if ya come ‘ere often. Told him he could ask ya himself,” she replies, looking over to the door as a couple walked in.</p><p>“Thanks, Annie,” he says before she leaves to take their order, tamping down the funny little jump his heart had given when he’d seen the stranger, reminding himself that he’d buried all that, stuffed all the notions of things like romance and crushes and pretty boys with handsome smiles into a box and buried it alongside Jason’s casket.</p><p>He’s barely given a moment to reminiscence before the man is sliding into the seat in front of him, leaving Tim blinking as he tries to remember when he’d crossed the room. The smirk hasn’t left his (frankly gorgeous) face when he asks, “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”</p><p>Tim needs to get a grip. Hell, it’s not like he’s never been flirted to before, far from it. He shouldn’t be so shaken up by this, but the memory the flowers had pulled up… “No, I’m not here with anyone,” Tim replies with a tight-lipped smile of his own.</p><p>The stranger’s smile turns a bit warmer. “I hope I didn’t scare you off with the,” and he gestures towards the pseudo-muffin. “You just reminded me of someone I knew when I was younger, and I couldn’t help myself.”</p><p>Well. It’s not as if the man isn't attractive, and the gesture is pretty sweet, all things considered. “Oh, it takes a lot to scare me off, don’t you worry,” he says, hoping for a reaction and being disappointed when he doesn’t get one. There’s gotta be something wrong with him; he could understand Hood, a man who’s probably been trained past most human limits, but a civilian shouldn’t be so hard. “But I don’t even know your name.”</p><p>“Call me Peter.” Peter. Peter, he’s heard that name somewhere. As one part of his mind starts filtering through his mental database, trying to match up the man’s rugged features, the other part of his mind is weighing on what to do.</p><p>“Jackie,” he responds when the man tilts his head a little to the side in question, which throws the red-ish roots of his hair into highlight. The dye job isn’t done <i>badly</i>, per se, but Tim’s an expert at pulling apart disguises and temporary dye isn’t too hard to tell. It of course raises the question of why the man has done it, which makes the logical part of his brain groan because he literally thrives on mysteries.</p><p>Peter’s smile widens, and Tim almost trips over himself whilst sitting down because that should not look that hot. “Jackie,” he repeats, voice dipping a bit lower than his normal cadence. He opens his mouth to say something, but a small chirp from his pocket cuts him off. Scowling, the man pulls his phone out, a burner phone, the detective in him jots down, which is a bit odd for a civilian, though he supposes that Gotham allows a bit of leeway in classifying what exactly a regular civilian is.</p><p>When Peter looks up, Tim finds himself strangely disappointed by the regret on his face. “I’m real sorry, but I gotta run,” he says, a bit of the Crime Alley accent slipping into his voice. Nodding towards the dessert in front of him, the man gets up, “Enjoy your, uh, tiramisu cupcake. Didn’t actually know those were a thing till Annie told me the only solid thing you’d eat had to have caffeine in it.”</p><p>Refusing to let the blush cross over his face at the man’s teasing grin, Tim raises a brow (and gives a mental thank-you to Annie because of things like <i>tiramisu</i> and <i>yes</i>). “What, you’re not going to ask for my number?” Tim’s been through enough of these to know how they work, after all.</p><p>Peter just shakes his head at him, a few of his locks brushing across his forehead and Tim has a strange urge to move them back as he asks curiously, “Would you really give it to me if I did?”</p><p>Tim looks down, at the coffee that’s probably gone cold now, at the warehouse that’s picked up in activity across the street, and then finally at the fucking cupcake, the bright flowers lying innocuously on it. He takes a deep breath, smearing one of the poppies with his thumb, leaving a bright orange streak on the white frosting underneath. “No, I suppose not.”</p><p>Selina’s words from earlier pull at him, but he pushes them aside. He had to get this partnership with the Red Hood sorted out first, and he couldn’t afford any distractions till then.</p><p>Peter nods. “I thought so. No hard feelings, I get it. Maybe I’ll see you around, Jackie.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” he answers, internally smacking himself for being disappointed over Peter’s retreating back. He needs to get to work.</p><p>Tim’s able to maneuver a small drone he’d left on the roof of the warehouse the night before into one of the lower level packing rooms, sending the feed to his main computer back in his Nest. That done, he goes on to try to locate the busted trackers Hood had left around the city, in hopes of repurposing them. Besides, they can also help him triangulate the man’s common undercover stomping grounds.</p><p>A small notification pops up onto the side of his screen as he’s trying to decipher the garbled location code. Quickly running diagnostics on it to make sure it isn't some form of malware (or another angry present from Babs), he opens the call it links to, popping in his earbuds as he throws back the dregs of the coffee (cupcake still lies untouched, save for the ruined flower).</p><p>He waits for a moment, cautious of it being a call to Tim Drake, not that many people called <i>him</i>, but there's no such thing as being too careful.</p><p>The words that filter through the call banish any thought of trying to maintain his identity. “Hey, Timmy. You didn’t call, I’d almost be disappointed if I hadn’t already expected it,” the monotone filters through.</p><p>Tim sighs, leaning back in the chair, gaze flitting around to make sure there’s no one within earshot. “I thought I was supposed to wait for your orders, <i>Hood</i>.”</p><p>“I never thought you were the type of person to follow anyone’s orders, Stray,” and Tim breathes a sigh of relief, trying to pretend that the moniker doesn’t feel like a safety blanket settling around his shoulders. “The opposite, in fact.”</p><p>Sucking on his lower lip, Tim carefully draws himself out of Hood’s databases, not wanting to get caught when he hasn’t even seen the extent of his operations yet. “I’m flexible.”</p><p>Hood snorts. “I’ll bet. But I didn’t call you to play, ki- Stray, as fun as that would be. I want you down at Port Adams at eleven tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, do you? You know, when most people call me for late night meet-ups, they’re usually a bit more polite about it,” he replies, tracing a spoon through the top of the muffin, mixing the colors together till the whole thing is a mess of multi-colored brown mush.</p><p>“I wasn’t under the impression that that’s what gets you going, Stray. I can be quite the gentleman, if you’d like,” Hood quips right back at him.</p><p>Tim laughs softly. “I’d like to see that,” he says, only partly joking and surprised when Hood replies-</p><p>“Maybe one day.”</p><p>“Hoo-”</p><p>“Eleven pm, sharp,” the man cuts him off. “Don’t be late.”</p><p>Before Tim can get a word in edgewise, the line beeps and shuts off, and he’s yanking the earphones out with a huff. He’s only got nine hours to prepare himself.</p><p>With a sigh, Tim gets up, making sure to leave a tip on the table next to the destroyed cake. Looks like he’s got work to do, especially if he’s going to be on top of his game tonight. And with Hood, he’s <i>definitely</i> going to need it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if you liked it, pls tell me! and if u didn't, feel free to leave criticism, I'm always open to improvement<br/>(my schedule hopefully clears up soon, so ill fingers crossed have the next one out on next week, a big big thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter, yall are literally the sweetest ppl ever)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. jason realizes He Fucked Up and wishes tim would sit on him in another context</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You play a pretty game, Hood. Talking about <i>partners</i>."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry bout the late update, lifes just been smacking in the face a little bit rn<br/>anyway!!!!so i actually had a bit more back and forth planned between these two before we like, sped up a bit, but some of yalls feedback made me think that this chapter needed to happen now (and btw, thanks to everyone who did comment, yall were super helpful and respectful so thanks a bunch for that, (tho i still can't believe no ones called me out for my chapter titles yet-)<br/>TW for like mild violence, since lots of shit goes down in this one, but there's nothing like super graphic<br/>ok, enjoy the chapter !!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s ten-thirty when Tim finally reaches Port Adams, a bare half-mile from City Hall, where Stray’s most prolific territory is etched out. It’s ballsy of Hood to call him here, so close to his biggest concentration of allies, but Tim’s come to realize that cheeky fuck-you’s are pretty much just Hood’s MO.</p><p>He didn't mean to cut it so close, but after running himself ragged for hours on end, he finally hit a snag in Hood’s network just after the sun had gone down. And he’d pulled it like a cat with a ball of yarn, or so the metaphor goes. Still, it won't do him any good to be late to a party that, by the transmissions sent by a few of Hood’s top guns that really needed better cybersecurity, is meant just for him. </p><p>Closer analysis of the warehouse Hood had left the address of in one of his offshore safe-houses revealed that it held a good third of his men. Tim wishes he’d thought to look more into the Red Hood gang’s initiation norms because that seems to be exactly what he’s in for.</p><p>By the time he’s staked the place out (too quickly, but there isn't much he can do for the time-crunch) from a commercial building over the Commerce Highway, it’s ten minutes to eleven and Hood still hasn’t shown up. Tim’s not complaining, though, since it gives him more time to scope the warehouse out for the no-doubt heavy security the crime lord’s placed on this gathering.</p><p>Swinging over the street bustling with Gotham’s raucous nightlife, Tim’s content to hang upside down on the rafters of the building till the group’s notorious leader makes his no doubt dramatic appearance, but before he can even scale the walls from the high ledge window he lands on, his eyes catch on a boy struggling in the grip of a gaggle of Hood’s thugs. A boy Tim knows like every single other one of his informants, hand-picked and trained personally from the streets of Gotham. Warren Sveiltte, a boy who'd been working for him for a scant two years before trying to sell him out to the Penguin for higher pay.</p><p>Of course Tim knows, has been feeding the kid false information for almost three weeks now, but it seems that tonight the jig might be up.</p><p>Hooking his whip back onto his belt, Tim leaps into the foray, a grin tugging his lips at the way the crowd backs away from him like oil to water the second they’d checked off all the boxes of people who wear black leather and jump off rooftops with whips and came to the obvious conclusion. It leaves a circle of wide space around him, and Tim eyes the guns aimed at him before his gaze falls on Warren, who’s already bleeding from his nose and being held on his knees by three people, all wearing Hood’s red insignia on their sleeves.</p><p>The kid’s eyes widen upon seeing him, and he immediately begins stuttering, “St-Stray, call them off, please boss, I swear I didn’ do <i>nothin’</i>-”</p><p>Tim silences him with a single hand, and the boy swallows. Painting a pretty smile on his face, Tim tilts his head at the detainers and says, “All this fuss for a child? I didn’t think that it took so many of Red Hood’s men to kidnap a fifteen-year-old.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that,” says a voice behind him, one that Tim doesn’t allow himself to startle at, not in front of a crowd this big.</p><p>Slowly turning around, the smile frozen on his face as he acquiesces, “Hood.”</p><p>Hood tips his head at him in a mock salute. “Stray. Good to see you’re right on time. As for the boy,” he turns to him, Warren white as a sheet but holding still beneath the helmet’s focus. “Well, I’ve gotta commend you, Stray. Took out two of my men before we got him down. If only you trained them as well in loyalty.”</p><p>The last line is an obvious jibe aimed at him, and Tim reminds himself to stay calm as he replies simply, “I do. And I take care of the ones that fail.” His eyes flit over to the boy, who practically quails underneath the flinty stare. “Which leads me to wonder why one of my operatives is under Red Hood’s custody.”</p><p>Hood just gives a low, scratchy laugh, sauntering forward. “Ya see, kitty, I thought, to commemorate our new alliance, I’d give you a little gift. Whaddya say, ‘Rennie, wanna treat your boss to a nice, friendly interrogation?”</p><p>If he’d been any less trained than he was, Tim's pretty sure Warren would have already started blubbering. As it is, he flinches, cringing backward into the hands of his capturers as Hood gives a signal with a twitch of his hand. He’s immediately hoisted up, dangling by the scruff of his neck from where the enforcer’s holding him up as another readies a blow.</p><p>But Tim can't just stand there while he watches Hood bloody one of <i>his</i> operatives. Time to show his hand, and force the other's.</p><p>“Tell him to stand down, or I rig your hood to blow.”</p><p>Hood freezes mid-stride, and if he could see his face Tim's sure he would have paled. In front of his men, the little demonstration that Stray had flipped on his head, it’s a weakness that won’t be so easily swept away. “You’re lying.”</p><p>Hood isn't all that good with tech; he didn’t use it enough to warrant it, relying on brute force and a more traditional approach while handing a lot of the more technical aspects off to heavily monitored lackeys. He does have quite a large hand in a lot of the surveillance cameras in most of the less-well to do areas where the base of his operations is, and the security on them is passable, but not enough that Tim couldn’t jump on one of the feeds at the warehouse that were sent to his helmet.</p><p>It was practically child’s play, with the amount of hidden little traps and surprises the man has tucked away behind the metal casing, to dig his claws into the mainframe and steal control over the electronics, whose temperature can easily be controlled by the wrist-computer his thumb hovers over.</p><p>Tim’s lips curl as he bares his teeth. “You willing to call that bluff?”</p><p>Immediately, the pistol loosely holstered at the man’s thigh is in Hood’s hand, finger on the trigger and muzzle aimed directly at Tim’s mouth, which goes unprotected by his cowl.</p><p>Tipping his chin up, Tim’s heart races with the blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline kick-starting as he stares down the barrel with a self-assured grin. “Do it, Hood,” he taunts, taking another step forward, hand not moving from his own trigger despite the multiple firearms now trained at him from the crowd, waiting for their boss’s order. Which he wouldn’t give, given that having a good quarter of his men injured wouldn’t be worth killing him.</p><p>Hood shifts his stance, and Tim takes another step, bringing him hardly ten feet away from the weapon. “Pull the trigger, I don’t need more than an eighth of a second to trip your helmet’s fuse, and you’ll join me in hell in less than a<i> minute.”</i> He didn’t want to pull it, but he would if it came down to it. Tim's already killed one Red Hood, what's another?</p><p>Tim internally crows with victory when he finally sees Hood hesitate. Walking, no, <i>strutting</i>, the last few feet till the gun is pretty much pushed up against his chest, Tim smirks into the blankness of the red hood, before he’s moving his hand from the computer to the top of the gun, pushing it down slowly and not breaking eye contact (well, more like aesthetic eye slits-contact, but same difference) the whole while. </p><p>The crowd has descended from its low hush into angry murmurs that Tim files away for later; they’re loyal to Hood, evident by their anger at the blatant disrespect shown to their boss, but untrained, given by their immediate breakage of rank at the sight of Hood pulling his gun. When Hood finally gives in, reholstering the gun now firmly pushed down to be level with his thighs, a few shots ring out in the crowd from some of the more trigger-happy goons.</p><p>Before mass pandemonium can fall out, though, Hood immediately snaps to the side, shelving Stray as a threat for the moment as the men fall into attention. “Everybody, out, now,” the man orders and Tim’s almost surprised by how quickly they obey.</p><p>“What ‘bout the kid, boss,” one of the women holding the limp, whimpering boy asks, a superior judging by how the gaggle tasked with the boy yield to her. Hood considers her for a moment before turning to Tim again.</p><p>When Hood doesn’t say anything, Tim snatches the opportunity for all it’s worth and assumes a commanding voice, holding eye-contact with Warren’s decidedly wet eyes. “Leave him outside the city limits. If he’s smart, he’ll stay out, and if not, then he’ll be taken out by those with vendettas against me anyway."</p><p>The woman doesn't hesitate for a moment in beginning to lug him away; apparently, Hood's deference has solidified his position as the man's second, after the more public spectacle didn't work out. A public spectacle that still sets Tim's teeth on edge.</p><p>With the labored pants of the heavily injured boy (and Tim makes a mental reminder to instruct one of his Sommerset-mainland agents to make sure he's all right, because Tim has always had a problem with people dying on his hands and he'd be damned if Hood makes him cross that line) fading into the background, the room is finally cleared out, Stray and the Red Hood its only occupants.</p><p>Somehow, despite the empty space stretching out on every side of the couple, the tenseness practically triples tenfold.</p><p>Hood's watching him, watching him like he's never seen him before. The notion is ridiculous, as Tim's been abruptly forced to realize just how thoroughly the man knows him, his life. But the man is silent, and he just watches.</p><p>Tim is the first one to break the silence. "What the <i>fuck</i> was that?"</p><p>Hood's reply is still, infuriatingly smooth, but the slight hesitance at the beginning reveals that the modulator probably has a bigger hand in that than the man's nerves. "What the fuck was what?"</p><p>His laugh is jarring, something wrenched from inside that festering pool of emotion that he's been trying to shove down in favor of trying to keep level-headed, that consuming well of cold-blooded <i>anger</i> that had him breaking into Wayne Manor in the dead of night, when all the Bats would be out in the night and cracking open Wayne himself's personal safe. He'd left the same cheap, yet still shiny with care (<i>obsession</i>)  pistol in front of the Joker's cell, a little surprise for Batman to destroy himself over when all the good little batlings had gone to sleep.</p><p>Tim's eyes flash with the same ruthless abandon as they did that night (when his eyes caught on that picture of Bruce and Jason hugging, a father and son, the Batman that had failed<i> his</i> Robin), as he unclasps his whip with a careless flick of his wrist, practically breathless with the heady feeling that fills his head. "You play a pretty game, Hood. Talking about <i>partners</i>."</p><p>He feels a vicious sense of satisfaction when Hood's mask twitches in the slightest, eyes catching on the unfurling rope of leather. Not a pretty toy to hang off his hip, not a substitute grapple, a <i>weapon</i>. A weapon that, from experience, Tim knows hurts.</p><p>He takes a step forward. Hood doesn't move.</p><p>The words drip from his tongue like flinty daggers as he catches the stupid eye slits in the helmet and holds the contact. "But <i>partners</i> don’t try and force me into an alliance with <i>blackmail</i>.”</p><p>“<i>Partners</i>,” Tim repeats, almost whispering with how low his voice has gone, boots clicking against the cold cement of the echoing warehouse, “don’t try and punish one of <i>my</i> informants with excessive force without <i>my</i> say so.”</p><p>Hood finally takes a step back, hands still oddly not anywhere near his guns. Tim would have pulled them in his shoes, had he been able to make himself use one ever again without the nightmares plaguing his waking hours as well. “He would have had you killed,” the man snaps. “A whole branch of your network, gone. I was doing you a favor.”</p><p>Tim’s grip on the handle tightens as he bares his teeth. “He’s fifteen years old. A <i>child</i>. Children make mistakes.”</p><p>“In Gotham?” Hood wrenches out a harsh chuckle. “Children who make mistakes <i>die</i>. Or was the little Robin not lesson enough?”</p><p>The tension simmering beneath his skin finally boils over at that taunt, and Tim snarls as he finally launches himself at Hood. “Don’t you <i>dare</i> bring him up!”</p><p>Hood ducks on the first lash of his whip, but the swipe of his claws throws him into the coil of the second. The man just goes with the momentum, though, flipping over him with an ease that doesn't match his stature. Tim’s twisting around in a second, bending back to avoid the right hook the man sends his way in retaliation.</p><p>“What, have I struck a nerve, kitty?” Hood sneers, blocking Tim’s kick and locking his arms around his leg to pull him closer. It occurs to Tim that, as he braces his foot against his side to leap over him and land in a practiced crouch, succeeding in cracking Hood’s helmet against one of his reinforced knee pads, there’s no way they can pretend they’re doing anything other than grapple right now. That’s fine, though. Tim knows how to play dirty, too.</p><p>“You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he says, flicking his wrist to release the pellet. Hood’s focus doesn’t twitch from Tim’s figure even as the small explosion rocks behind him. He's too trained for that. Good thing he was counting on it.</p><p>“Oh, you’d be surprised, Stray.” Cocking his head as he looks at him through the rising green gas from the pellet, Hood gives his helmet a tap. “And gas doesn’t work on me. Built in re-breather, remember?” he says, as if he’s sharing a secret.</p><p>Tim’s lips twist as he takes a measured step back, staying just out of range of the knockout gas that would either take him out completely, or disorient him enough for Stray to get an upper-hand depending on what his tolerance is, and he replies, “You sure about that, Hood?” before reaching up to trace the small yet precisely placed crack on the red helm on his own face.</p><p>Realization hits Hood and he quickly fumbles with the clasp of the helmet, but his movements are lagging as the gas starts to take effect. The moment the man stumbles in the slightest, Tim throws himself at him, his own re-breather locked tight despite the already fading fumes. Hood’s attempts at blocking him are futile at best, his movements practically telegraphed, and Tim easily wrestles him into a hold, divesting him of most of his obvious weapons in the space of a breath. Whip wrapped tightly around the wheezing man’s throat, Tim keeps his weight squarely on his sternum with his thighs locking in his arms, so even when Hood regains his senses, getting out of his predicament would be useless if he didn’t want to get choked by a weapon that could very easily release barbed spikes.</p><p>It takes an impressively short amount of time for Hood to recover, and he goes completely still as he takes in his position.</p><p>He begins thrashing again when Tim goes to reach for the same clasp the other had before, trying to throw him off. He can’t move too much without cutting off all his oxygen, though, which makes his attempts useless.</p><p>“Now, now,” Tim coos, lips quirking as the protective enhancements in his gloves absorb the shock the helmet tries to give him when he presses down on the trigger to release the seal. “Just making sure we’re even, big boy.”</p><p>Finally, the ruined hood loosens, and Tim pushes it off, heart thudding in his throat as his eyes draw up the stubbled jaw and full, cracked lips, the slightly crooked nose from which blood is slowly seeping, and then, almost disappointingly, hitting the red domino. Of course he was wearing a mask. Just because he wore a hood to cover it up didn’t mean he was any different from any other masked freak running around Gotham’s rooftops (though Tim can’t exactly talk).</p><p>But when Tim scrapes his claws along the edge of the mask, leaving red lines in their wake, it doesn’t come off. He pouts, pressing a bit harder, but to no avail. Hood, who stopped struggling once he’d flashed his claws, hisses as a few drops of blood stain the metal tips. “Special formula, sweetheart. Something that’ll take even <i>you</i> a hot second to break down.”</p><p>Unfortunately, he’s right. If Tim was back in his Nest, he’d be able to formulate a counter-agent to the adhesive in a few minutes tops, but in an empty warehouse no doubt surrounded by Hood’s mercenaries? He didn’t exactly have many options. Nevertheless, the saccharine smile on his face only grows.</p><p>“Oh, I’m not too worried about it,” he purrs, claws tracing down the man’s (oddly familiar, Tim notes internally) face, leaving the faintest trail of blood on his cheek before the sharpened tips are nothing but points of pressure on the underside of his jaw. “After all, I’m sure you’re all too eager to tell me anything I want to know, aren’t you Hood?” With a twist of his hand, the steel pierces the skin in the slightest, Hood’s heart rate still somehow steady beneath his palm.</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that,” the man murmurs, the timber of his real voice low, husky with the strain Tim’s putting on his throat and chest.</p><p>He tilts his head, dragging his claws over to rest over Hood’s jugular. “Knives at your throat and you’re still playing. You’re an interesting man, Hood.”</p><p>The raspy laugh is a lot more appealing without the modulator, Tim finds. “I don’t have to be interesting. Just smart.”</p><p>“Really? Do tell.”</p><p>“Well,” Hood says, tipping his head back to look Tim in the eyes, nothing but white-outs and colored goggles separating them, and consequently making the blades dig slightly more into his skin. The blood is dripping now, but the man doesn’t look like he’s worried. “Two reasons, kitty. One, you’re smart too. A helluva lot smarter than me. My organization isn’t perfect, nor self-sufficient, not yet. If you killed me, you’d bring down half of Gotham’s drug trade. The gangs would fall apart, and my territories would descend into chaos. And you care too much about your city to destroy it.”</p><p>Tim hates that he knows that. He hates that he doesn’t know <i>how</i> he knows that. “And the second reason?” he asks, grinding his molars to keep from punching the man till he passed out. Tim’d found out the hard way that unconscious people aren't really all that useful for interrogations.</p><p>“The second reason,” Hood repeats, drawing it out. “is that you don’t kill people.”</p><p>It’s the same thing Tim had said to him when they’d first met. “You know that’s not true,” he says.</p><p>Hood hums, the reverberations traveling up Tim’s hand, before replying, “I don’t consider the Joker as a person, so yes, it is.” Okay, so the man had just moved up quite a few places in the list of people Tim liked. “And besides, what you did to him was personal. Not just anyone takes the gun that killed his rival’s parents to shoot him with.”</p><p>Tim’s blood runs cold. “You know Batman’s identity.” It’s not a question.</p><p>Hood answers it anyway. “I know a lot of things, kitty.”</p><p>“Who the hell are you?” he practically growls, and the man’s breath hitches as his claws press just a <i>little</i> too hard.</p><p>“Can’t-” he coughs as Tim loosens his hold enough that he doesn’t asphyxiate. “Can’t tell you.”</p><p>He raises a brow. “Partnerships don’t work without a little thing called <i>trust</i>, Hood. And you wanna know something?”</p><p>Hood doesn’t really seem like he can answer, a slight wheeze still discernible in his breaths, but Tim leans in anyway, letting the man’s reddish-black hair, with that shock of white over his forehead, tickle his cheek as he says, “I <i>want</i> to work with you. You said I’m smart? You’re not wrong, and every angle I look at this from, I benefit. My network benefits, by allying with a force like the Red Hood. But.”</p><p>Tim leans back, hands leaving his throat. His grip on this whip did not lessen. “But, I can’t work with you if I’m constantly dealing with the danger of my family’s identity being revealed. Either even the score, or I give the backdoor I used to get into your helmet to the bats, and we’ll see what they do with it. I’ll deal with the fallout like I always have, but I’d prefer the former over getting caught messing around with Batman Inc.”</p><p>Hood’s lips are pressed into a thin line, frustration easily readable on his face now that the hood is gone. <i>Good</i>, Tim can’t help but think. Let him get a taste of his own medicine. “So?” he asks, prompting him.</p><p>It’s a few, silent seconds before Hood answers him, only filled with the man’s ragged breathing. “Two weeks.”</p><p>“What?” Tim asks, frowning.</p><p>“Give me two weeks,” he clarifies. “I’ll tell you, my name, my identity, whatever, I swear.”</p><p>Tapping one of his claws lightly against his lip, Tim considers him. “And why should I take the word of a crime-lord and a murderer?”</p><p>Hood gives a light shrug - well, more like an aborted move of his shoulders with how tight Tim’s legs are around him, but the sentiment still stands. “You’ve already proven yourself capable of taking me down. And since I’ve already declared you my second, if I do die, my territories will fall into your hands anyway. So. Two weeks.”</p><p>"One."</p><p>The man grimaces, before nodding.</p><p>A week. Tim’s spent longer than that unraveling mysteries, and with how eerily blank this man’s history is before he came to Gotham, he knows it’ll take almost double the time to figure out on his own. Still, he’s not one to back down from a challenge. “And what’ll you give me if I figure it out before your time’s up?”</p><p>“Trust me,” Hood says, a grim smile settling on his features. “My name will be prize enough.”</p><p>Tim would take a moment to think about it, but since he’s been listing the pros and cons of both decisions by the time the words had barely left the man’s mouth, he just stands up, making sure to put a little more weight on his chest than necessary before he takes it off completely, startling a grunt out of him, because Tim can be petty when he wants to.</p><p>Warily, Hood gets up after him. Tim’s more than a little proud to see he’s the slightest bit shaky in the knees. Before he has the chance to pull on the broken hood, though, Tim reaches out with a gloved hand and lets it hover between them.</p><p>Hood seems a bit confused, so Tim explains, “Let’s start over. I’m Stray, and I am <i>ever</i> so excited to begin working with you, Mr. Hood.”</p><p>An indent forms on Hood’s cheek from where he’s bitten it, probably just a tic, before he reaches out, leather gloves meeting the silver speckled with his own blood in a firm handshake.</p><p>“Partners?”</p><p>Hood’s grip on his tightens almost imperceptibly before he pulls away, the red helmet obscuring his face before Tim can even blink. The man only hesitates for a moment before he’s tapping at a hidden switch under the hood, and the next word is free from any distortion.</p><p>“Partners.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope u liked it!!!update will be within the span of the next two weeks(hopefully, since im pretty much just posting these as they come now, so idk) so watch out for that!<br/>and btw, the amount of top energy tim is radiating-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. tim and steph fight like preschoolers while cass watches on with popcorn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The night is dark along with cold, except for the infrequent flashes of moonlight peeking through Gotham's smog cover, but the moment Tim hits the rendezvous rooftop, he knows he's not alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay. i know, its been. a whil.\e. big oop, i totally lost handle of the story for a hot second there, but i was luckily able to get back into the writing mood over break and wrap this up. also, I've got things a little more outlined now and can say with seventy two percent surety that the reveal is going to happen in the next three to four chapters which,,,excitement!(and yes i did change the title again and no i will not apologize)<br/>notes for this chapter, no tws, but wow this is a slowburn. there's some fighting, but nothing too major.<br/>a load of thanks to nevertickleasleepinggay for betaing this chapter, they did an absolutely fantastic job<br/>finally, if you haven't yet, please listen to tims theme song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZ6D9kIKigI<br/>im done, enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day slips by fast, with how much planning there is to do. He’s spared no time to puzzle over the mystery Hood had presented him with the ever closing moment when the news of Gotham’s most infamous alliance would be boasted from the top of the most infamous establishment in the city.</p><p>They had both agreed that the date of their reveal would need to be pushed forward to quell any rumors of discord that the night’s, for lack of a better word, disaster had caused. Tim's managed to survive long enough to know that in a city as ruthless as Gotham, any and every weakness is just more bait for the sharks.</p><p>It’s almost noon when his communicator beeps with a message; Tim had finally been able to convince Hood to alter the device to allow a two way signal on the word of a cat’s honor that he won’t use it to track him. And he won’t, Tim is willing to give this tentative trust a try, so long as the other man is willing to give him a name at the end of the week. </p><p>Leaving the slowly coming together pieces of the night’s disguise on the workbench, he thumbs the comm’s new upgrade open, hoping that Hood has sent over the address for the rendezvous point, one of the last parts of the plan they needed to finalize. When his eyes finally hit the little text bubble though, a simple number or street sign isn't what greets him. It's. Tim rubs his eyes. The message still stares back at him, all the same.</p><p><i>'Have you been able to get some sleep yet?</i>'</p><p>It doesn't mean anything. Of course, it doesn't mean anything, why would it? Hood is probably just asking to make sure that he's ready for tonight. The thought immediately grates on Tim's nerves; he’s been working this job for close to a decade, of course he’s ready.</p><p>Something stops him from sending the indignant reply waiting at the tip of his tongue, though. Because he actually hasn’t gotten any sleep yet. And it’s been a long time since anyone but his mom has asked him that. Hell, Tim can’t ever remember anyone other than her asking(Jason’s face flits across his mind before he quickly shuts <i>that</i> line of thinking down), and though he hates to admit it, it’s nice. It’s nice of Hood to ask.</p><p>Hesitantly, he types out his reply. <i>‘Not yet. I’ll grab twenty before heading out tonight though. You try to get some as well, the coup could go into the morning.’</i> It takes another few minutes worrying over the last sentence, before deciding ‘fuck it’ and hitting send.</p><p>Tim’s so on edge he doesn’t even notice the minuscule flashing green light at the very bottom of one of his monitors, a five-second compromise he and Oracle had reached for the sake of the little privacy they can hold onto (they're not Batman, after all). His distraction costs him, in the price of a tipped over coffee, the precious liquid spilling to the floor. The paper cup follows, and Tim, who is currently experiencing what he’s pretty sure is the ninth circle of hell, looks up from where it landed to where Barbara’s amused face is looking back at him.</p><p>"Long night?" she asks, voice free from distortion and nothing covering up the amused, shit-eating grin on her face as Tim stares dejectedly downwards at the wasted caffeine.</p><p>"You don't know half of it." Still grumbling a little, Tim drops back into his seat, filing away the mess for another time. He scrubs his face with the hand that didn't just get drenched with burning hot coffee.</p><p>Barbara laughs, and Tim's ready to pass it off as her finding his sad attempt to cover up a yawn as static amusing, except for another green light is flashing to the side as she takes over a second monitor, screen momentarily going blank before—</p><p>Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck <i>fuck</i>. Tim thinks he might have said that out loud, because Barbara is raising a judging brow at him but he can't focus on her because the whole monitor is currently displaying grainy, window-level footage of him and Hood brawling on the floor of a dirty warehouse.</p><p>“Shit,” Tim swears, regretting not putting enough time into casing the area; at the very least he could have made sure to delete any footage after the fight, but he’d been too distracted. It isn't a mistake he can afford to make again, especially since there's a chance someone with much more nefarious intent and animosity towards Stray could get their hands on it.</p><p>Barbara snorts, shaking her head. Tim gets the impression she's laughing at him and pouts, but to no sympathy. "I'm assuming you both got over your differences?" On screen, Stray pulls off Hood's helmet and drags his claws over the man's lips, shifting slightly where he's straddling his thighs. Tim swallows (but also makes a mental note to steal a copy of that footage from her because, <i>well</i>).</p><p>Trying to save his remaining dignity, because the look that Babs is giving him is all too knowing, he smirks, letting his voice drop just a little when he replies, "You know I never mix business with pleasure, Babs."</p><p>"Oh?" She asks, and this time her voice is all too dry. Coincidentally, the footage glitches for a second to reveal momentary flashes of an all too righteous <i>'S'</i>, a glimpse of purple highlights gleaming beneath golden blonde. "I've got a few sources that could contest that, Timmy."</p><p>Tim can't help the tight smile that's the closest to a grimace he can allow in front of her. He can't deny that he knows exactly what she's talking about, that he knows who the pretty bright smiles in those pictures belong to. After all, he wouldn't be a cat if hadn't had a few flings with heroes himself, now would he?</p><p>"Which reminds me," she continues, her eyes flicking back and forth showing Tim that her attention has at least slightly diverted. To more pressing matters, if the furrow between her brows is any indication.</p><p>"So this is a business call after all?" he asks, pulling his keyboard into his lap so he can begin the arduous process of kicking her out again. It would take him a hot minute if she’s updated from the last time, but he can hopefully cut the connection before she asks exactly <i>what</i> he’d been talking to Hood about. They were friendly, with a certain trust built up after years of working together and dropping hints that she knew who killed the Joker, but he can't trust that with her own family’s identity on the line, she won't be prepared to take action against his newly minted partner if she finds out that Hood was in the know and <i>not</i> on her speed dial.</p><p>"Something like that," she replies, and Tim wonders if he should really start to get worried, because it's not often that Barbara beats around the bush with him. She didn't have the time nor patience for it, so if she's dragging this out now... "I recently received a message from a certain Bat, asking me to set up a meeting with you."</p><p>Tim ignores the fact that his heart's kicked up a beat as he leans forward, all traces of playfulness erased from his face. He knows that if it comes down to it, she won't give up his identity, but it would compromise him if he had to sever his connection with Oracle.</p><p>Before he can ask for her reply, though, she adds amusedly, "Although, her exact words were 'give me a time and place where I can pummel some sense into that fucking asshole.' Give or take a few expletives."</p><p>Tim immediately groans, at which Babs promptly laughs, the traitor. Because there's only one Bat who'd say that about him, the others too full of <i>justice</i> (and a healthy modicum of regret for Robin's little friend who fell <i>so far</i>) to have a little fun. Stephanie Brown, alias: Batgirl.</p><p>Oh, Tim is so fucked.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>An hour before he has to meet up with Hood, Tim leaves the Nest. All the variables are in place, every contingency accounted for, yet his mind still whirrs with any and every minuscule possibility of something going wrong that he can think of. Even with the amount of firepower they're going in with, Tim can't help the curdling feeling in his gut when he thinks about the stakes at hand tonight.</p><p>The fresh air helps clear his thoughts a little, and he takes a deep breath, freezing air filtering in through the mouthpiece he'd remembered to grab before hitting the roofs. The air is still slightly colder than normal, though, and when Tim falls through the air for that brief second before his hands wrap around a telephone pole, he can't help but think it's going to snow soon. He hopes not, because whether the weather complies or not, Stray will have to ramp up appearances after the chaos they were about to create tonight.</p><p>The night is dark along with cold, except for the infrequent flashes of moonlight peeking through Gotham's smog cover, but the moment Tim hits the rendezvous rooftop, he knows he's not alone.</p><p>It's a big rooftop, dark and empty and silent, at least to a normal civilian. Tim may be a lot of things, but he sure isn't anything that could constitute as <i>normal</i>, and has spent too much time obsessively keeping track of the bats to not be able to pick up on the slight hush that falls onto any place they flew. Especially this particular bat.</p><p>Still, it's not like he can turn away now after they've undoubtedly already seen him. The act of cowardice would give them enough leeway to start pushing, and the only reason he's survived holding up against them is by putting on his best smile and keeping his whip handy.</p><p>So he swings down, boots hitting the tile of the roof with a click.  He doesn't tuck away his whip yet, though, just pulls out one of his more sultry smirks and leans up against the brick of the chimney. Cocking his head to the side so the city's lights reflect in his goggles, Tim calls out casually, “You know, as happy as I am to be the attention of my favorite bats,” and there’s a shift in the shadows on the far end, one that Tim’s not stupid enough to believe is just moonlight, “I am a busy man. Is there any way I could be of service, <i>Batgirl</i>?”</p><p>Stephanie's golden hair gleams in the night before a cloud passes and the roof is shrouded in darkness again. Tim's night-vision goggles keep him apprised of his surroundings, though, so he doesn't miss a beat when she launches herself forward. Side-stepping, he flips himself over her as she braces herself against the crumbling brick, whipping back around with a scowl.</p><p>Tim holds his stance for a moment, tries racking his brain for anything he'd done in the past month that could have pissed her off this time. Stephanie must notice because she almost growls,  "You fucking—"</p><p>Arms locking around her torso are the only things that keep Tim from being pushed off the edge of the roof. Black Bat gives him a nod over the blonde's shoulder, his sound enhancer picking up her saying, "Recon only." Steph glares at him for a few more seconds before nodding, and Black Bat lets her go.</p><p>She immediately punches him in the face.</p><p>Tim hisses, hand immediately coming up to hold his jaw because while they may have changed over the years, Stephanie’s left hook hasn’t gotten any less painful. "The fuck, Batgirl? I don't recall robbing any hair gel stores in the last week."</p><p>"Oh please, catboy, don't play dumb,“ she sneers, fists balling up at her sides again. Tim subconsciously shifts his balance. "You sure you don't want to explain yourself before we have to do this the hard way?"</p><p>She has to know. It's the only explanation he can think of, but he's worried at the speed with which the information got around; moving the coup up to tonight is starting to seem like a better idea every minute.</p><p>Still, a little evasion never hurt anyone, right? "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that, pretty bat." Leaning forward just a little, he tilts his head, like he’s sharing a secret. “I get around too much to remember every little thing, but you’d know that, right?”</p><p>Steph doesn’t rise to the bait, just takes a deep breath, eyes glittering beneath the new whiteouts. Tim can’t help the little part of him that misses the way her blue would sparkle beneath the purple hood, but he quickly quashes that train of thought when she holds up a glossy picture and—oh.</p><p>It’s not a good photograph. It’s ridiculous that that’s the first thing that comes to his mind, but Tim can’t help the way his eyes immediately scan the picture; after all, the angle casts the figures into too much of a shadow to keep any dynamic element, the lighting is too weak, but the grainy shot of Hood still looks better than the man usually does with his helmet on.</p><p>Steph clears her throat and Tim’s eyes snap up again. “Remember this guy, catboy?” she asks, the nickname dripping with sarcasm. “Huh? The actual crime-lord you’re all buddy-buddy with now?”</p><p>Rocking back on his heels, Tim raises a brow. “I’m not sure what you were expecting, pretty bat. You <i>do</i> remember that I’m a criminal too, right?”</p><p>Her jaw visibly clenches at the derision in his tone, but instead of giving him a matching bruise on the other side of his jaw, she grips his shoulder with a gauntleted hand, pulling him closer. He follows, body not dropping his stance. “No, you’re better than him,” Steph says, and if they were anything other than what they were, if they were still seventeen and stupid, Tim might even think she was pleading with him. “You know that Stray.”</p><p>For a brief second, Tim wishes he could agree. Wishes that he could be what she believes he can, that he can be saved like she’s tried so hard to do. But his hands aren’t clean, and they never will be again. And he’d much rather be like the Red Hood than anything like whatever monster hides behind Batman’s cowl.</p><p>The thought helps him push off her hand, and Tim takes a step forward, forcing Steph to move back. Pulling out his most infuriating smile, the one she always said made him look like the Cheshire Cat, and tilting his head inquisitively, he asks, “Oh, really? Why?” He takes another step forward, and this time, Steph takes two back. “Because I did you a favor, what, five years ago?”</p><p>“You’re a good person, Stray,” she repeats, and for a second all Tim can hear is Batman’s ‘you can still have your redemption, Stray,’ Dick’s voice whispering ‘we can <i>help</i> you’, and all thoughts and plans of pacifying her so the night can go as planned fly out of his mind, replaced a spark of adrenaline that he’s <i>missed</i>, goddamn it.</p><p>A harder look passes his face, smile turning a little too sharp to be playful. “Sorry, pretty bat. But I guess I just thought you stopped thinking that after I fucked your boyfrie—”</p><p><i>Gasp</i>. Reaching up, Tim probes his cheek, makes sure nothing is broken. God, but that <i>hurt</i>. 

“Low blow, asshole,” she hisses. Teeth bared (and probably bloody, if the metallic taste on his tongue is anything to go by), he looks back up at her. Stephanie, for her part, glares right back.</p><p>Tim hasn’t had a good old fashioned brawl in a while, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean he’s rusty.</p><p>Steph dodges the first fist, but the second connects with her gut. She rolls with it, spinning backward. Tim follows, avoiding the roundhouse aimed at his head, ducking beneath her arm to try and catch her in a chokehold, but she manages to flip over him, landing on his back.</p><p>Her weight sends him to the floor, but the second he’s down, he flips them. Steph’s gauntlets hit his shoulder before he can pin her, though, throwing off his balance and giving her an opening. Tim absently notes that they’re nearing the edge of the roof.</p><p>Before her already pulled back fist can knock him out, Tim manages to get a hand free, reaching up and <i>pulling</i> on her hair.</p><p>“Ow, fuck! The hell is wrong with you, Stray!”</p><p>Wheezing as the fist makes contact with his collarbone, Tim digs his claws into her cape and pulls on the reinforced kevlar, cutting off her air supply. The next second he has to cut off his own shriek as her <i>teeth</i> sink into his jaw.</p><p>“The hell is wrong with <i>me</i>?” he manages to get out, before a distinctive <i>rip</i> comes from the golden hair still tangled in his grip. Tim makes eye contact with the white lenses for half a second before he’s scrambling, arms locked around her neck to try and get leverage before Steph can pull out the bo he knows she’s got somewhere—</p><p>“Part, fools!”</p><p>They both jump apart, scrambling to their feet as Tim curses himself for forgetting about the <i>other</i> bat on the roof. The bat that is currently staring at them with an upset expression on her face and brows furrowed in concentration.</p><p>“Put up your swords; you know not what you do,” Black Bat finishes, confident and practiced, and Tim watches Steph clip her bo to her belt again in the corner of his eye.</p><p>“You, uh,” Tim really hopes BB isn’t going to punch him too; he’s not arrogant enough to believe he can fight her, and he really doesn’t want to use up the only contingency he keeps reserved for her, “you finished Romeo and Juliet?” He’d only lended it to her last month, too. </p><p>A pleased look crosses her face. “Yes. On King Lear now.” It doesn’t distract her, though, and the frown comes back after a moment. “Now apologize.”</p><p>They both turn awkwardly towards each other. Steph breaks the silence first, “Sorry for the,” she gestures vaguely to the bright red bite mark on his face that he’s no doubt going to have to put make-up on for the next week to avoid the inevitable glances.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry for the whole,” Tim glances at Black Bat, “bringing up past shit thing.”</p><p>“Good. Now mission?”</p><p>Steph sighs, “Fine.” When she speaks again, her voice is practically drenched in earnestness. “Why are you doing this, Stray? If the Red Hood is forcing you into this, then you can tell us, we’ll help you. And if you don’t want the bats interfering, then even just me and Black Bat, hell, she could probably take the asshole herself!”</p><p>Tim can’t help but be warmed by her concern, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t need it. Still, it’s good to have people on his side, no matter how tentative and fraught said alliance may be. “Thanks, Batgirl,” he replies eventually. “And if I ever need it, I’ll keep it in mind,” and he thinks back to the familiar curve of Red Hood’s lips, the alarm bells the husk of his voice rang in the back of his mind, the simple statistics revealing the drop of casual crime in every territory the man had systematically took over, “but I’m fine. Really.”</p><p>Black Bat is eyeing him in the way he knows means she wants to say something, eyes narrowed behind her own domino. He needs to wrap this up, quickly.</p><p>Smiling, thumbs hooked on the sides of his utility belt, Tim pulls the persona back over him till it clings closer to his skin than the black bodysuit. “So,” he drawls, dragging the word out and eliciting an eye roll from Steph, “if you’re not here to arrest me, you guys still have your patrols to finish, right?”</p><p>Steph shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll leave you and your dubious morality alone for the night.” Tim is about to retort with a similar quip when he’s almost smothered by a large amount of eggplant-colored fabric. He hugs her back with just as much strength, before she pulls back. “Be careful, okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>She gives him one last look before pulling her grapple out, and a second later is nothing but a blur against the backdrop of the city’s nightlights.</p><p>Black Bat turns to follow her, but before she shoots her grapple she stares at him with that unreadable expression again. It’s hard not to quail beneath it, but Tim thinks he manages quite well till she finally jumps off too, and he can finally release the breath he’d been holding.</p><p>Still, he doesn’t have the time nor security to relax just yet. After all, the night is young and the city is practically bleeding with the promise of what Tim <i>knows</i> tonight will yield. Quickly typing out an encrypted message to a runner to spread the message that the distraction was going to have to be upped in scale if the bats were already out this early, Tim drops down to his knees and begins feeling under the ledge for the bug he’s eighty percent sure Black Bat was planting while he and Steph were having their little… quarrel.</p><p>Luckily, he’s not too distracted, or the Red Hood’s presence barely two feet from his vulnerable back may have been surprising enough to send him toppling down into two hundred feet of brutally cold Gotham wind. As it is, all he affords is a slight intake of breath, before he lets it go in a puff of white vapor.</p><p>“Hood, so glad you could join,” is spoken in Stray’s sultry murmur as he rolls up from the ground and back onto his feet, spinning around to meet the black red with a smirk.</p><p>“Hmm,” Hood says, although Tim admits it could have been a malfunction in his modulator since the man’s still using it for some reason that he would love to pry out of him if they had the time. “Didn’t exactly look like you were lacking company, kitty. Superboy, huh?”</p><p>So he picked up on that. Adding another mark to the ever-more concerning list of things Hood shouldn't know about him without at the least a bat-level obsession, or an in with the hero crowd, Tim grimaces. “Let’s just say the whole thing was a clusterfuck and leave it at that.”</p><p>“Hm.” Tim wonders if he should offer to check out the man’s modulator for him since it's so obviously glitching. Tilting his head back a little, the man seems to be considering him. “Never knew you got around so much.”</p><p>Raising one brow, Tim can’t help the amusement curling on his lips. “Well, what did you think all the leather was for?” He can’t help his laugh at Hood’s silence either, the other turning his head to the horizon as Tim pockets the mini-surveillance cam he’d found. The footage would probably only go to Barbara anyway, but better safe than sorry.</p><p>“Whatever,” he mutters, before looking back to Tim, whose fingers are flying over his wrist-computer, already managing the extra supplies required for the change in distraction. “Let’s get a move on, your hold up might just make us late to our own party.”</p><p>Tim gives the man an incredulous look. “We’ve still got fifteen minutes before that becomes a problem, with an additional twenty to allow for any last-minute changes.” </p><p>The leather on Hood’s gloves creaks for a moment, before he seemingly switches tacks. “You didn’t think to tell me that we were going to have surprise bats show up?”</p><p>“I didn’t know they were going to be here.” Tim cocks his head, brows drawn because he hasn’t heard Hood this agitated while in his helmet, well, ever. “So what crawled up your ass and died?”</p><p>It’s difficult to discern, but Tim realizes the man’s gaze is fixed pointedly somewhere below his right cheek. He kind of wants to reach up and touch it, but he forces his hands to remain still as Hood’s jaw clicks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kitty.”</p><p>Tim gives him another moment, but when it becomes obvious he’s not going to give him anything else, he just rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, fine.” He supposes Hood had to fit in with Gotham’s particular brand of drama one way or another.</p><p>“Anyway.” Unclasping his whip, Hood’s eyes catching on it as it unfurls to the ground, Tim turns, facing the jump. “You ready?”</p><p>He can see Hood’s chest rise behind him, before he’s standing next to him and pulling out his grapple, the creak of his glove echoing with the practiced press of the trigger. “I’ve been ready for a long time, Stray.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>let me know in the comments if you liked it(or didn't lol I'm open to feedback) i adore each and everyone of them, and they were honestly the biggest motivator in finally finishing this chapter. stick any questions you have done there too, i know my writing can get a tad bit confusing at times lol<br/>unfortunately I've got exams coming up in the next few days, so the next update will probably be in about two to three weeks. if you want to see terrible posts at inconsistent rates or send me an ask tho, you can hop on down to my tumblr @robinlikeitshot! thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>updates will be every sunday!<br/>if u liked it, drop a comment or kudos down below, theyre always appreciated:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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